


Daddy

by bornforwar_archivist



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2020-03-17 11:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18964117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornforwar_archivist/pseuds/bornforwar_archivist
Summary: By Jo RisuTotally AU. They're human, they're normal. William Develin and his seven-year-old daughter have lived in Sunnydale since she was a baby. No one knows that her mother survived the birth. Imagine little Megan's surprise to discover her mom is alive and well and living in L.A. And that her conservative-yet-cool father used to be a gang member known only as "Spike".





	Daddy

Chapter One

 

March 29, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

I think it's been a week since I last wrote in you. But that's ok. We had a game yesterday, and my team won. Robbie scored two goals, and that made him really annoying. He was running around saying "I'm so good, I'm so good!" and the Kiersten told him, "No, you're so bad!" and we all laughed. It was funny. But his feelings weren't hurt or anything. It was alright.   
I'm over at Mr. Giles' house again today. He's got lots of weird books with funny pictures. There was one book with all these naked ladies in it, but it was like drawings, not picture pictures. I told him that one of the boys in my class got into trouble for drawing pictures like that, but they weren't as real looking, and he blushed. Mr. Giles blushed, just like Kiersten does. But then he took the book away and tried to get me to watch the telly. I don't want to watch television. He doesn't, Daddy doesn't. T.V. is boring. There's nothing good. The pictures aren't even interesting. Well, except when they show Sailor Moon on Cartoon Network. I love Luna and Artemis. I want cats just like them, who can talk to me. But that would take magic, and magic's silly. Only Kindergarten babies believe in magic. It's like Santa and the Tooth Fairy. They're not really real. Oh! Daddy came to get me early. I've got to go now. Bye!

 

Love,

 

Megan 

 

**********

 

 

William Develin nodded to his neighbor. "I can't thank you enough for watching her again, Rupert," he smiled sheepishly. "I got backed up at the garage, you know how it is." The normally conservative young man was still in his coveralls, a grease smear on one cheek. 

 

"Quite all right, Will," the older gentleman expressed with a fond smile. "Megan's quite the imp, but nothing I can't handle. Besides, I know that the new motorcross track was just completed outside of town. That should be stirring up more business, don't you think?"

 

William grinned. "Oh, it already is. The track owner was in today, wanted to know about subcontracting or somesuch, to see if we could work out a referral deal." 

 

"How wonderful for you! I can only hope that - oof!" Rupert Giles, retired professor and research librarian was nearly bowled over by a blonde streak of lighting headed unerringly towards her father. 

 

"DADDY!" Megan squealed, as if it had been days and not hours since she had seen him last. 

 

"Nibblet!" He broke into a smile, sweeping her up into his arms. "Oy, you're getting a bit big for me to do this for to much longer. How old are you again? Fifteen?" William pretended confusion while his daughter giggled and Rupert rolled his eyes in mock-annoyance. 

 

"Silly, I'm seven. You know that. Seven and three quarters." Megan tugged on his collar. 

 

"Oh, right you are, pet. And if you're seven and three quarters, hmm... well, Mercury's in retrograde, and it's 78 degrees outside..." he pretended to think hard. "That makes today special. But..." He set her down and rubbed his chin in consternation. "Oh! That's right! It's Thursday. Thursday is broccoli night!" 

 

"No it's not! Today's Saturday!" Megan was almost dancing in place. 

 

"Saturday? Are you sure?" 

 

"Yes, silly. I'm positively certain." She beamed at her proper use of a Mr. Giles phrase. 

 

"That's ok, we can still have broccoli..." William winked at Rupert, who was trying very hard not to laugh at this old, yet favored, game. 

 

"No! That's not why today's special!" This time, the girl screwed up her face and stomped her foot down.

 

 _Gods, she gets more like her mother every day..._ Squashing down his inner voice, William continued, looking down at his daughter in bafflement. "Then why?" 

 

"IT'S SOCCER DAY!!" she burst out. "Let's go!" Seizing her dad's hand, she spun towards the front door. "Bye, Mr. Giles! I'll see you tomorrow!" 

 

William shot his neighbor a quick grin and let himself be dragged away. After all, they had a match to prepare for. 

 

**************

 

 

Susan Novak and Mary Beth Cavenaugh lounged back in their folding chairs at the edge of the town's soccer field. The sisters wore matching grins as they watched their children run back and forth over the grass in their striped uniforms. 

 

"Oh, Lord, I wish William would stop teaching them how to slide tackle. I'll never get the stains out of that shirt." Belying her cross words, Mary Beth's tone was completely affectionate as she adjusted her sunglasses. 

 

"Don't I know it! Half the time, I wish they'd just break down and buy green uniforms for all of them. It'd save on detergent, that's for sure." The two shared a chuckle over that. 

 

"Oy! Bethany, you know better than that. There's nine other people who want a chance at the ball, you should let some of them play, too, eh?" William's crisp voice could be heard over the din of the enthusiastic Youth Soccer League scrimmage.

 

"I'm so glad that he agreed to coach this year. He's so good with the children. And they're doing a lot better than they used to." 

 

Susan laughed at her sister. "And this way, it keeps him from being so outspoken from the stands! Remember two years ago, when he almost got ejected over a five-and-under division match?" 

 

Their giggled reminisce was interrupted by a soccer ball flying wildly towards them. 

 

"Oh! I'm sorry Mrs. Novak, Mrs. Cavenaugh," Megan called over, her face apologetic under its protective layer of dirt and sweat. 

 

"It's fine, dear. Nothing we aren't used to," Susan called back, tossing the ball to William as he jogged over to oversee the throw-in. 

 

"That Meg sure is a pistol," Mary Beth confided in her sister. "Sweet as can be, but what a firecracker! She must take after her mother. William's so reserved, it can't be from his side." 

 

During this last piece of conversation, one of Sunnydale's newest inhabitants was walking over. Judy Stevenson and her husband Mark had just moved to town a month or so back. Their two sons, Chase and Michael, were the newest members of the soccer team. They were ten minutes late, as usual, and Judy looked a little flustered as she settled down on her own chair next to the sisters. "Hi, Susan, Mary Beth." She nodded at each of them. 

 

"Hi Judy!" Susan chirped. The other woman waved a casual hand. 

 

"Were you talking about Megan?" Judy asked. 

 

Susan nodded. "Just about how she and her father are so close, but they're just so different."

 

"She probably takes after her mother." Mary Beth concluded.

 

"What did happen to her mother? Chase has had a couple of play dates with Meg, but I never had the chance to find out. There aren't any pictures of a woman around the house..." Judy raised a brow in inquiry. She hated mysteries of any kind. 

 

"Oh, that. Well, as far as anyone knows, William's wife died in childbirth. He never talks about her and I don't anyone who's seen a picture or heard a description." Susan leaned forward conspiratorially. "He's only been a Sunnydalian for a few years. He just showed up one day, daughter in arms, straight out of the blue. I think he might be from Santa Cruz, or another one of those towns." She giggled again. "He's the local enigma." 

 

"He just fits in so well," Mary Beth added, "that no one pesters too much to find out. Common consensus says that he's from a decent family further south. He probably married too young for their liking, and struck out on his own with his wife. When Meg was born, he didn't want to return home with a motherless child, so they wound up in Sunnydale." 

 

Judy's brow furrowed. "How old is he?" 

 

"Uh... twenty-four? I'm sorry, around here, grown-up birthdays don't get much press." Susan grinned. 

 

"Megan's seven, isn't she?" the new woman continued. 

 

Mary Beth nodded in response. "She'll be eight in two months. And William _is_ twenty-four. He was seventeen when he first got here." 

 

"Then why assume that he was married?" Judy wasn't trying to be rude, and there was no malice in her voice. She was just curious. 

 

"Oh, well, he wore a ring for the first year that he lived here. Never took it off." Susan waved her hand, casually explaining. 

 

"In California, and all the surrounding states, you have to be eighteen to marry. You say he was only seventeen when he moved here, so how could that have been?" 

 

The sisters stared. 

 

"Parental consent?" Mary Beth hazarded. "We never thought of that before." 

 

"But you said you think that they were avoiding their parents - or that the families disapproved," Judy pointed out logically. 

 

"Huh." Susan settled back in her chair, gazing thoughtfully at the trim young man who jogged back and forth across the field. As sunlight made his dark blonde hair shine almost white, she shrugged and gave a little smile. 

 

"Like I said. He's the local enigma." 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

April 2, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

I had a dream last night. I dreamed about Mommy. She was a princess, all locked up in a tower. And she was all locked up because when I was born, an evil witch tried to steal me away, but Mom gave me to Dad and told him to run. He didn't want to, but he had to rescue me, so he ran far far away from the evil witch. And she was so angry, that she locked Mommy up in a tower, and it's a magic tower that Daddy can never find. But when I grow up, and I get stronger, I can open the tower, and I can fight the evil witch, and my mommy will take me and give me the giantest hug, and tell me that she knew I'd come for her all along. And do you know what? I think it's true. I think it's almost real. I think it will be me who finds her, wherever she is. 

 

Love,

 

Megan 

 

 

**********

 

 

**_September 1995_   
**

 

 

******Buffy Anne Summers snapped her gum as she walked casually down the hall of her new high school. Her head was held high, she was wearing the newest, trendiest clothing, and she had an air of superiority and grace about her that made people stop and watch as she strode by. With a toss of her long, blonde hair over a smoothly tanned shoulder, she completed her journey at the door to the school office.  
**

 

******Spike was slouched low on the bench outside of Principal Snyder's office. His head snapped up as a vision in platform heels breezed into the secretary's outer sanctum. She was stopped, leaning against the tall counter and speaking cheerfully to the woman at the computer screen. Smirking, Spike tilted his head and gave her a thorough once-over. She had on a pale blue sundress, with thin straps, that reached to her mid-thigh. No socks, just the aforementioned platform sandals - white. Strappy. Utterly cute. She even had a matching white patent leather backpack purse. He would've hurled, except the angle she was leaning at gave him a lovely view up the back of her skirt.  
**

 

******_Smirk._   
**

 

******Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy caught sight of an unwashed miscreant with bottle blonde hair and a black leather fetish. _Ew, much? Ugh, I forgot the downside of public school - they let anyone go here._ She flipped her hair back with a toss of her head, and turned to lean her back against the tall counter. Propping her elbows on the surface, she crossed one ankle over the other and began to blow a large, lazy bubble in her gum.   
**

 

******_Oh, that's it, Princess... you own this place, don't you?_ Spike shifted in his seat, letting his leg muscles flex under his fitted black jeans. This was almost fun.   
**

 

******The door to Snyder's office slammed open, and the small, troll-like beast glared down at him. "Spike," the little man sneered. "I should have guessed it was you again."  
**

 

******_On second thought, scratch that._   
**

 

******Buffy's bubble popped. Her gum bubble, that is. Loudly.  
**

 

******Snyder's pointy head whipped around in her direction. "There is no gum chewing allowed on school property. Dispose of that at once, missie." He gave her a patented scowl. The girl just looked confused. After a moment, she shrugged slightly and bent towards the trash can to spit it out. When it was gone, she straightened, crossing her arms and allowing her lower lip to jut out ever so slightly.  
**

 

******_Oh, pouty. Look at that lip... gonna get it... Well, eventually I will._ The blonde addressed as Spike stood slowly, drawing himself up with calculated, feline languor. "So, y'gonna lecture me, or deal with the chit first?" He inclined his head in the girl's direction.   
**

 

******_Oh... my... god._ Buffy immediately began to reassess her assumption of his slovenly unworthiness. His jeans were torn, yes, but not dirty. The way the worn denim clung to him was... delicious. Add to that a fitted black shirt, and that yummy leather trench coat? _Don't forget the delectable accent... oh, yum._ Buffy forgot her pique at being scolded by the principal upon her first encounter with him. She was just grateful that the blonde bad boy had spoken. And... acknowledged her existence. _Oh god. Is my hair ok?_ It took iron control to keep from checking it right then and there.   
**

 

******Snyder continued to scowl, looking back and forth between the two young troublemakers. _Hmph. One or both, I'll get rid of them before the year is out. Mark my words._ "Spike," he repeated. "Office. Now."   
**

 

******The student in question quirked a be-ringed eyebrow at Buffy, and followed the diminutive dictator.  
**

 

**********

 

 

William wiped his hands repeatedly on a rag, eyeing the Harley Davidson with an air of satisfaction. The bike might not belong to him, but he worked on it often enough that he could practically name each and every bolt and screw. The sweet VRSCA V-rod belonged to a rich upper-east side snot, who rode the bike like it was nothing. Even though the machine was tough, it could only take so much before something gave. So he had it in every three or four weeks, for minor repairs and detailing. 

 

The rag flew through the air, landing unerringly in the corner hamper of the garage. _Two points._ William sighed quietly, and looked around the shop to see if anything else needed done. School was still in session, so he was the only employee at the moment. When summer came, he had a few of the boys from the local high school who helped out on day shift - they covered some weekends during the year, too. It helped that it was a small town. If he wanted to close shop so he could take Megan on a camping trip, they just waited an extra day for their repairs. Convenient. 

 

A high-pitched, rhythmic beeping shattered William's introspection. He grinned, using a grimy finger to flick the button on his watch's timer. It was time to go get Megan from school. 

 

Parking his sensible dark green SUV outside of Sunnydale Elementary School, Will got out of the car to wait for his daughter. He couldn't help but lounge against the sun-warmed metal. If he squinted his eyes, he could almost see the finish as being black. Before he could trap himself in reminisce, a tall, blonde woman was approaching him with a smile.

 

"William! Hi!" Judy Stevenson stopped next to him. 

 

"And how are you, this fine day?" Will squashed his vague resentment at having his introspection interrupted. 

 

White, even teeth flashed in the sunlight. "Pretty well, it's been a quiet day. Actually, I came over to ask about making a play date for Chase and Megan. He's been pestering me non-stop about seeing if she's allowed to come over. Do you have a day that we can make that work?" 

 

"Sounds like fun for the little bits. Maybe tomorrow afternoon? What did you have in mind?" He smiled back at her. As his daughter's best friend's mother, this was a woman he couldn't afford to irritate. It was a carefully sheltered relationship, so that the kids were happy. Not that he disliked the woman. To the contrary, she was so nice it was almost sickening. She was just... too California. It was like she had 'organic' stamped across her forehead. Perfect tan, perfect degree of blonde, classy little outfits and a perpetual French twist. 

 

"Oh, the usual routine involves some swimming in our new pool, then snacks. I don't usually let Chase and Michael watch television during the day, but for a playdate, we can all watch a Scooby Doo movie with our snack. We've got tons of dress-up clothes, art supplies... I'll just keep an eye on them while they horse around." Another brilliant, Crest-white smile. 

 

William chuckled. "Makes me wish _I_ was seven." 

 

Judy laughed. "You're welcome to come, too!" 

 

He shook his head, still amused. "Think it might cramp their style. 'sides, I've got some backup at the shop that could use a little extra attention. So tomorrow it is?"

 

Judy nodded. "The kids'll be so excited - oh! Hi there, Chase-man!" She spun to greet her seven-year-old son. 

 

"Hey Mom! Did he say yes? Can Meg come over?" The little blond boy was almost bouncing up and down. 

 

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" 

 

"Can Megan come over after school tomorrow to swim in our pool and maybe watch a movie and do some art stuff?" Chase blinked wide blue eyes up at William. 

 

"I think that could be arranged. What do you think, Meg?" Will looked down at his approaching daughter. 

 

"Oh, can I? They've got a _pool_." 

 

"Then yes, sweet bit, as long as you promise to follow the rules of the house, eh?" 

 

"I promise!" Megan blurted out. She nearly squealed, sharing a wide grin with Chase. 

 

"Oh, either I or my cousin are with the kids when they're in the pool. She's visiting from the east coast for few months to help out during the remodel. Courtney's such a sweetheart. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow!" Judy gave yet another wide smile, then ushered Chase off to go collect his little brother. 

 

Meg gave her dad a hug, and shrugged out of her backpack. Tossing it in the back of the SUV, she ran around to clamber into the passenger side of the van. "Guess what, Dad? Mrs. Jonston, the music teacher? You know how she's having a baby? Well, she won't be able to finish the school year like everyone thought. So in two weeks, we're getting a new teacher. They don't know who yet. But isn't that weird? A new teacher for two months of school." 

 

William grinned as he got behind the wheel. Starting the engine, he listened avidly to his daughter's words. Sometimes, he missed the feel of leather against his skin. Occasionally, he craved a cigarette. God only knew how much he missed his DeSoto. But times like this, when he was waiting in line to leave an elementary school parking lot while driving a forest green Ford 4Runner and listening to an account his daughter's day? None of that mattered. He was content. 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

April 3, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

Chase is the coolest guy. He's really funny and nice. He's not like the other boys in my class. They're all still stupid, and they say dumb things about cooties and stuff. But Chase isn't like that at all. I guess it's because his mom is such a nice lady. Chase is my best friend. He likes to read, and play soccer, and he has a pool, and likes Scooby Doo and Veggie Tales, and he's got a little brother named Michael. Michael's really sweet. I mean, he's still in kindergarten, but he's not a baby like the others. He likes to play pretend with us. I wish I had a little brother. Or a sister. A sister would be awesome. I'd take her to meet all of my friends, and maybe she and Michael would play together when Chase and I are doing other things. I'd teach my little sister all about numbers and letters and Dr. Seuss, and how you shouldn't go swimming by yourself and that you shouldn't ever talk to strangers, and don't forget to hold hands when you cross the street... There's a lot of stuff I know. There's a lot of stuff I could teach her. But I'm not going to have a sister any time soon. Because Dad can't make one by himself. At least, I don't think he can. Maybe I'll ask him. But it's time for me to go eat breakfast. School starts pretty soon.

 

Megan

 

**********

 

 

**_September, 1995_   
**

 

 

******Buffy sulked as she entered the detention room. It wasn't fair. Detention on her first day at a new school. Back at St. Francis DeSales High, she had always been one of the principal's favorite students. Unfortunately, it seemed as if public school was not going have the same perks. Dropping her stack of textbooks on a desk, she carefully hung her purse on the back of the chair. She seated herself decorously, mindful of her skirt. _Detention over gum. How insane is that?_   
**

 

******A low chuckle reached her ears. Buffy looked up to see the same sexy blonde from the office lean casually in the doorway.  
**

<dd"take it="" that="" snyder="" really="" didn't="" like="" your="" bubble="" blowing="" style."="" spike="" pressed="" the="" tip="" of="" his="" tongue="" against="" teeth.="" eyes="" sparkled="" as="" he="" watched="" her="" mouth="" open,="" then="" shut.="" <br="">

 

******Buffy blinked, regaining control of her faculties. The back of her mind, however, was still screaming at her. _WANT SEXY TONGUE. WANT NOW._ "You guessed correctly. What did you do wrong?" She was proud of herself for stringing together two coherent sentences while he was looking so... lickable.   
**

 

******Boots made an interesting clicking sound as Spike walked into the room. He grabbed the chair next to her and proceeded to assume the single most sensual sprawl Buffy had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. "I showed up."  
**

 

******"What?" The girl cocked her head, mildly confused.  
**

 

******Spike laughed. "Nice Valley accent y've got there, pet."  
**

 

******Buffy looked indignant. "I am NOT from the Valley."  
**

 

******He just chuckled again. "Sure, love. Whatever you say. But yeah, I showed up. Snyder's got it in for me. Teachers all know, to score brownie points with him, they've just got to send me to the office for something." He shrugged. "Got to be kind of a game, y'know? I try to see what the most outrageous thing I can do to get in trouble."  
**

 

******Buffy leaned forward slightly, eyes wide. "What did you do today?"  
**

 

******Spike snickered. "Told Mr. Hart that he had a luscious ass. 's all it took."  
**

 

******The blonde girl fought down a surge of disappointment. _Why are the hot ones always gay?_ She glanced down at his hands, noticing for the first time that they had black polished tips. _Darn._ "I thought that public schools were more accepting of-" she waved her hand towards him "-alternative lifestyles. I mean, I know that it would get you in trouble at MY old school, but-"   
**

 

******Spike interrupted. "What? 's nothing to do with lifestyles, it's just sexual harassment." He blinked, taken aback. "D'you think I'm a ponce?" He looked down at himself, trying to see where he had gone wrong. _No leather pants, shirt's not filmy or silk... what the hell gave her THAT idea...?_   
**

 

******Her pink-painted lips formed a round 'o'. "I'm sorry, I just thought that..." Buffy trailed off, pointing at his hands.  
**

 

******Spike followed her gaze. _The nails again?_ He scowled. "I'll have you know that this is a VERY manly color. No sparkles or glitter shit. 'm not a poof."   
**

 

******"I really am sorry. I mean, I've never been to a public school before, and my friend Deb told me to expect all sorts of weird stuff..." She was blushing bright red.  
**

 

******"So where did you go before? And what's your name, love?" Spike reassumed his mantle of sexy charm, hooking his arm over the back of the chair.  
**

 

******"Oh! I'm Buffy, Buffy Summers. I've spent my whole life at DeSales, you know, the Catholic school down on Limestone?" She uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again the other way.  
**

 

******A slow, lazy smirk crossed Spike's face, and he raised a hand to toy with the bead on his eyebrow ring. "That the school with the little grey skirts? White tops... navy cardigans?" He eyed her form blatantly. His smirk widened when she blushed and nodded her confirmation. Spike licked his lips. "You still have the uniform?"  
**

 

******Buffy leaned towards him slightly, a blush still staining her cheeks. She moistened her lips and pushed her hair back from her face, baring her neck tauntingly. At the end of the move, she propped her elbow on her desk, hand on chin. She gave him an innocent look, letting her French-tipped pinky nail slip into her mouth before she peeked up at him through lowered lashes.  
**

 

******"Maybe."  
**

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

******The next day found Buffy and Spike walking to classes together. His in-class behavior was slightly more restrained, so that he actually made it through whole periods without being sent from the room. When the two made it to lunch, they found a convenient table in the corner.  
**

 

******"So what's with the whole bad-ass image?" Buffy indicated his leather-clad form with a sweep of her arm.  
**

 

******"What's with the whole, sweet-and-innocent, 'won't you please debauch me' look?" He shot back.  
**

 

******She flushed slightly, glancing down at her outfit of the day. Alright, she had worn this to provoke him. A short plaid skirt, a buttoned white blouse, knee-high socks and heeled Mary Janes. If she hadn't been careful, she would've looked like a stripper. Or a porn star. "I don't know. I thought it was cute... and that you might like it."  
**

 

******"Oh, I like it, pet... but you should be careful about tryin' to be a little lamb 'round here. There's lots of wolves, just waiting to snap up a sweet little thing like you." His gaze was heated, but serious at the same time. " 's not very smart of you to play coquette with a bloke you just met yesterday. 'specially one who's a 'badass'."  
**

 

******She cocked her head, examining him. "Are you saying that you would hurt me?"  
**

 

******"No. But how do you know I'm telling the truth?" He tilted his head as well.  
**

 

******Buffy leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table, completely ignoring the tray of cafeteria slop. "I don't. But I trust you. You seem up-front. Why does it have to be so complicated? I like you. I hope you like me. I want to get to know you," she expressed, her words honest.  
**

 

******Spike gave a small smile, reaching over to run his fingers over the back of her hand. "You're an odd one, you know? Not the sort I would've expected to be so... real. Yeah, I like you, pet. Want to spend time, and what all." He looked up to meet her gaze. "It'll only get as complicated as we let it."  
**

 

******She smiled at him brightly. "See? That wasn't so hard. So tell me about you. I want to know everything." Buffy leaned back in her chair, poking a fork at the mystery substance on her tray.  
**

 

******Spike lounged back as well, his expression closing off. He may like the chit, but there's some things you just don't spill over soggy meatloaf. "Name's Spike, as you know. Been in L.A. all my life. Never knew my dad, my mum's a little bit... off." He shrugged. "Have kind of a family, group of us friends. We take care of each other. I still come to school because it pisses off Snyder and it might be useful to have a diploma. Plus," he gave a saucy grin, "you never know who you might run in to."  
**

 

******"Wow," Buffy smiled back. "Your whole life in a nutshell. But wait," she started, her expression becoming slightly confused. "If you've been in L.A. your whole life, why do you have an accent?"  
**

 

******"Two reasons, actually. My mum's from London, so that's how she talks. Didn't really see too many other people until I was ten or thereabouts. So it's how I learned. Then, it became one of my 'things', you know? Like the leather and the bleached hair. It adds to m'charm."  
**

 

******"So I see," Buffy mused. "You're an interesting guy, you know that?" She took a sip of milk from her carton.  
**

 

******"Well, what about you, Goldilocks? All I know about you is that you have a closet full of 'naughty schoolgirl' clothes, and that you like me." Spike couldn't help but give her another extremely blatant once-over.  
**

 

******Buffy just quirked a brow at him. "Where to begin? My mom works at an art museum as a broker, my dad is in business. I have a little sister named Dawn. My parents are in the middle of a messy divorce because my dad is a man-whore who likes his secretary a little too much." She said the last sentence extremely matter-of-factly. "That's why I'm not at DeSales again this year, my mom can't afford tuition on just her salary alone."  
**

 

******"Tough break, pet..." Spike grew thoughtful. He hesitated, then went ahead and asked. "Your interest in me... is this just something to piss off the 'rents? Because I'd like to know up front if I'm being used for shock value."  
**

 

******Buffy stared at him, surprised. "No!" she exclaimed. "God, I'm so sorry! I know how that must've sounded... No, not at all. I just think you're interesting." She blushed. _And damned sexy._   
**

 

******Something in her blush must have conveyed the gist of her thought, because Spike relaxed into a smirk. "Just interesting." He nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's me."**

************

 

 

_April 3, 2003_

 

The front door of the Stevenson house swung open at Will's knock. 

 

"Oh, hi! You must be William Develin. I'm Courtney," the tall, strawberry blonde grinned, holding out her hand. "Sorry about the mess," she apologized, "it's been kind of a crazy day." 

 

Will gave a little laugh. "Looks like it." He reached up, plucking a stray piece of grass out of her hair. 

 

"Oh!" Courtney ran a hand through her messy ponytail, dislodging a few more leaves. "We were just playing ball tag." She blushed a little bit, still smiling brightly. 

 

"Ball tag?" 

 

The woman nodded, holding up a Nerf ball. "See?" She tossed it at Will, who caught it easily. She started to back up. "Now you're it." Courtney turned, starting to head through the house to the back yard. "Coming?"

 

Chuckling slightly, Will followed. _The chit's as perky as her cousin, but at least she's got a sense of reality._ he thought, taking in her comfortable khaki shorts, white tank top, and the battered flannel shirt thrown over it. She was dressed for roughhousing with the kids, not for watching T.V. while supposedly babysitting. He respected that. Walking across highly polished wood floors, Will had to sidestep to avoid tripping over toys, furniture, and power tools. The living room was half-painted, and the floor was missing in the corner. 

 

"Judy wasn't kidding when she said they're remodeling," he commented. 

 

"Yup. They practically gutted the place. Half of what I do is keep the boys from killing themselves on the drill bits. The other half is keeping them out of Judy's way while she deals with the contractors." When they reached the backyard, Will noted that the swimming pool was covered. Chase and Megan were running around the far end of the backyard, apparently shooting each other with Supersoakers. On the deck, there were two workmen measuring and sawing an obscene amount of crown molding. 

 

"Yikes. 'm glad I've never had the urge to redo anything." Will was staring at the yard, almost jealous. This was ultimate suburbia. An acre-wide plot, a line of trees creating a privacy barrier, a tire swing... "Man, these kids have it made." 

 

Courtney laughed. "I thought the same thing. Judy and Mark are the rich side of the family. They're actually my second cousins. It was pretty weird getting here a month ago. I'm used to shopping at K-mart, using coupons, living in the real world. Judy drove me to L.A. just to go shopping for a skirt. I almost died." 

 

Will's eye twitched, but then he laughed. "Pretty crazy. She said you were from the east coast?" 

 

"That's right. I'm taking a break before my senior year at the University of Connecticut." She shoved her hands in her pockets, and took a deep breath. "I love the weather out here. Back in Hartford, I bet it's still all miserable and raining.

 

"That's why they call it Sunnydale," Will snorted. "Never a cloudy day." 

 

"Sounds like you've been watching too much Sesame Street," Courtney grinned. She made as if to say something else, but suddenly, she was attacked. 

 

A green burr attached itself to her leg. "GRRRAAAARRRR!!!!" Michael roared, his voice squeaking at the last moment. "RAAAAAARRRRR!" 

 

"Oh, no!" Courtney gasped, feigning terror. "It's a dragon! What will I do, what will I do!? Please, Mr. Dragon, don't eat me." 

 

"Okay, Courtney. I won't." Michael looked up at her, impish face beaming. He still clutched her leg, though. The four-year-old was wearing a zippered dragon costume, complete with spiked tail and hood. "But you have to give me treasure." 

 

"What kind of treasure does a Michael-Dragon want?" Courtney played along.

 

"Ice cream?" he asked hopefully.

 

She laughed. "Try again, hot stuff. No ice cream before dinner." 

 

"I want a hug!" Michael yelled, releasing her leg.

 

"You do?" Courtney grabbed him by the arms and tossed him in the air, swinging him around in a complete circle before setting him back down. "Is that good treasure?" 

 

Michael just laughed, starting down the steps to the yard. Courtney turned back to Will, eyes sparkling. "Sorry about that," she began. 

 

"No need," Will held up his hand. "I once had a four-year-old m'self." He grinned at the memories of similar demands posed by Megan.

 

"Well, then I guess I'd better call the kids in, if it's time for Meg to go. I love having her over, she's such a doll. CHASE!! MEGAN!!" Courtney leaned over the deck rail to holler. 

 

An impromptu race was begun, as the two first-graders tried to see who would be the first to reach the railing. Little Michael desperately tried to keep up. Megan pounded up the deck stairs and flung herself into her dad's arms. "I WIN!" she caroled, her voice muffled by Will's shirt. 

 

Chase sat down hard on the deck. "I know," he replied, seemingly unruffled. "But I won at ball tag." 

 

"Oh, speaking of," Will tossed the Nerf ball to Chase. "You're it." 

 

Chase gave an exaggerated groan, burying his face against the ball. "I quit then." He looked up a second later and they all laughed. 

 

"Well, Meg, it's time for dinner, so we've got to head on out, okay?" Will ruffled his daughter's still-damn hair. 

 

"Okay." She released her death grip on his waist and smiled at the Stevenson's. "It was fun! I'll see you tomorrow?" 

 

They nodded. "Bye, Meg," Courtney smiled, her eyes the same shocking blue as the boys'. "Bye, William." 

 

 

Chapter Four

 

April 5, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

I don't really have much to say today. Except that it's fun to play at Chase's house. His cousin Courtney is really nice. She plays ball tag, and goes swimming, and knows lots of games. She even helped us paint dragons. Courtney's a really good draw-er. A lot of coloring books have boring pictures, so she does pictures for us that have dragons and wizards and princesses with pretty dresses. She even made one of the princesses look like me. I like her a lot. I asked her if she was a mom, and she laughed. She told me that she was just practicing for now. I think she'll be a good mom. 

 

Love,

 

Megan

 

**********

 

 

**_Late September, 1995_   
**

 

 

******Spike's jaw clenched as he leaned against a wall in the dark alley. It was past midnight, and the only light around was the orange glow of his cigarette. All of his senses were alert, belying his casual demeanor. A homeless guy peeked down the alley, then scuttled away.  
**

 

******No one looked that casual after dark, not in this section of L.A. Not unless they were one of the things that most folk feared.  
**

 

******Hearing voices from the back door he was watching, Spike ground out his smoke. Patience was a virtue. Normally, he was not a patient man, but in this case he could afford to wait. Sure enough, in a few moments, the door swung open, bathing two people in dim fluorescent light.  
**

 

******A nondescript man in a brown leather jacket sneered as he dragged a struggling brunette into the alley. "You're going to work it off then, bitch," he snarled, slamming her against the brick.  
**

 

******Spike grimaced in distaste. Not that he gave a flying fuck what happened to the bint, but... was he going to have to watch this asshole whip it out? Ugh.  
**

 

******"Tyke, please, I'll do anything..." the woman sobbed as she was forced down to her knees.  
**

 

******The man in question just sneered, reaching for his zipper.  
**

 

******_Alright, that's it. I do not need to see this wanker's worm._ Two long strides took Spike across the alley, where he grabbed Tyke by the collar. Slammed him into the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth.   
**

 

******"Little bitch," Tyke spat down at the woman. "Said you were alone."  
**

 

******"Oh, she is," Spike knocked him against the wall again for good measure. "Got nothing to do with the bint." He lashed out a leg, kicking her across the face and knocking her unconscious. "There, you can fuck her face later. This is about you, me, and some very cranky people that I work for, see?"  
**

 

******Tyke's face turned deathly white. "Look man, I don't have your money. Been a slow week, people not paying their bills - you know how it is!"  
**

 

******"Yeah, I know," Spike shrugged, then landed a savage punch on Tyke's left cheek. "Not my problem. My problem is reminding you that _your_ bill is due." Another punch. "You starting to remember about that, mate?"  
**

 

******Tyke nodded frantically. "I know! I know! I'll have it by the end of the week, I swear!"  
**

 

******Spike laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "See, it's all about business sense. Once you start trading our merchandise for suck jobs, we stop profiting. Whore on your own budget, Tyke." He reached into his duster pocket, pulling out his butterfly knife. With one hand, he flicked it open. "Or do I have to get more specific?"  
**

 

******Tyke swallowed hard, leaning back so hard that one would think he was trying to disappear into the wall. "No, I've got it. Tell Angel I'll have his cash."  
**

 

******"You know, the last time you fucked with him, you stopped hearing so good." Spike grazed the blade gently over the dealer's missing ear. "Mess again, and you might be suffering some vision loss, too."  
**

 

******The man just whimpered, cowed by this dangerous teen.  
**

 

******Satisfied for the moment, Spike flicked the knife shut, returning it to his pocket. He released Tyke's collar, straightened his duster, and punched the dealer in the gut.  
**

 

******Tyke wheezed, doubling over. "What was that for? I thought we were cool!"  
**

 

******Spike shrugged again, cracking his knuckles impersonally. "Late payment, there's interest due." Fists rained down on the hapless drug dealer.  
**

 

******When the man fell unconscious, the teen dragged his body over to next to the hooker's, shoving them together. He'd lay odds, who ever woke up second would be doing so with a slit throat. Spike started to run a hand through his hair, but grimaced at the sight of Tyke's blood on his knuckles.  
**

 

******_Ugh. Even his blood is slimy._ Reaching into his duster pocket, Spike pulled out a cell phone. Speed dial connected him to his boss in three rings.   
**

 

******"It's taken care of... yeah. Got anything else?" He paused. "Right. Tell Mum I'll be there in half an hour... Will do." Spike disconnected without saying goodbye. Time to head home.  
**

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

******A tall black teen in a wave cap intercepted Spike as he walked in the doors of the dilapidated apartment building. Spike nodded at him, and was recognized. They slapped hands.  
**

 

******"Christ," Gunn swore by way of greeting. "That sure didn't take long."  
**

 

******Spike quirked his brow, "Yeah, well, he was feeling a mite cooperative."  
**

 

******The younger teen laughed. "Got to hand it to you, bro. You get the job done." He motioned with his chin towards the stairwell. "Angel's upstairs. He's got a meeting right now, but he should be finishing up."  
**

 

******"Thanks, mate." Spike immediately started to jog up to the fifth floor. The boss' suite was the best apartment in the place. When he knocked on the door, it was answered by a stunning brunette in a short, slinky dress. Her delicate features and slender, youthful body made her a walking invitation to impropriety.  
**

 

******"Spike," she whispered coquettishly, stepping aside with apparent delight.  
**

 

******He leaned in and brushed his lips over her cheek. She smelled like roses. She always did. " 'lo, mum."  
**

 

******She smiled at him, and returned to her customary spot at the side of a broad-shouldered man in a dark suit.  
**

 

******Angel looked up and smiled. "Spike!  
**

 

******"Yeah, I'm back. Good Lord, people, it's not like it such an event. I go, I beat, I return. 'appens every night, doesn't it?" He headed towards the kitchenette, wanting a snack.  
**

 

******Angel laughed. "That's my boy."  
**

 

******The brunette woman looked up at him with sloe eyes. " _My_ boy."   
**

 

******A statuesque blond on the other side of the gang lord sighed with exasperation. "Drusilla, honey? Shut up."  
**

 

******A discreet cough sounded from the opposite couch, where a woman in a tailored suit perched primly.  
**

 

******Angel grinned. "Forgive my pets, Ms. Morgan. They tend to squabble, don't they?"  
**

 

******"Yes, well, I assume that our business is concluded, then?" She appeared completely at ease, brisk and businesslike to the core.  
**

 

******The man nodded slowly in reply. "Consider it done. Someone will be in touch within the week."  
**

 

******Lilah Morgan, senior vice president of Special Projects at the Wolfram and Hart law firm, shook hands genially with one of the most wanted men in all of Los Angeles. "Pleasure doing business, Angel."  
**

 

******"You, too, dollface." He twitched his head towards the door. "So why don't you get on out of here, let me take care of the family?" His constant grin took the sting out of his words.  
**

 

******With a small smile, the attorney left.  
**

 

******"So," Spike commented, re-entering the living room with a sandwich in his hand. "What was that all about?"  
**

 

******Angel's grin widened. "I could tell you, but-"  
**

 

******"-then I'd have to kill you," Spike finished, groaning. "I swear, Peaches, you never get tired of that lame old joke."  
**

 

******"No, I really don't," he chuckled.  
**

 

******The teenager just shook his head, and plopped down on the recently vacated couch. He started to munch on his sandwich, ignoring his screwed up little family.  
**

 

******"Well," Angel said abruptly after a long silence, "I'm off for bed. Ladies?" He leered casually at them, and both Darla and Drusilla giggled, taking his outstretched hands.  
**

 

******Spike watched his mother follow Angel as if she were in thrall. He snorted. _Wanker._  
**

 

**********

 

 

_April 10, 2003_

 

Will eyed the young man who fidgeted under his gaze. _Young man? The bloke's prob'ly the same age as you._ He exhaled slowly, and set his papers down on the desk. "Well, your references are excellent, Mr. Harris. I can't say that it won't be a relief to be able to share the work load around here."

 

The man looked strong, his hands were calloused in all the right places, and he had a firm, confident grip. "Thank you, sir. And call me Xander, that's what every one else does." His fashion sense, though, left something to be desired. 

 

Distracted once more by the fluorescent Hawaiian print, Will just nodded. 

 

"I've been hearing about this shop for a while now, it's got a great reputation. Business must really be picking up, huh, what with the SoCal National Motorcross team using the local track for practice." 

 

Will blinked, shaking himself from his flower-induced daze. "Oh, yeah. Lots of pro bikes in here, don't trust 'em to the lot of high school autoshop guys I usually get to help out during the summer." He nodded and stood, extending a hand to his new employee. "Look forward to working with you, mate."

 

Xander Harris' face split into a wide smile. "Me too. Only, you know, with you." He flushed, realizing how stupid he must sound, but the shop owner just laughed. The two men shook.

 

"See you Monday, bright and early." Will released the other man, stepping back. 

 

Xander nodded. "Nine sharp." He took that as his cue, and backed out of the office. "Good to meet you." 

 

Will nodded back. Just then the phone rang.

 

"Hello?" His eyes lit up. "Oh, hi, Courtney! Yeah, it's a surprise to hear from you. I didn't even know you had my work number- oh, right." He chuckled. "You're good, love... That'd be great. Uh huh... Fantastic. At nine, then? Right. See you then." 

 

Smiling, Will set the receiver down with a small 'click'.

 

 

Chapter Five

 

April 7, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

This week has been really busy. In school, we've been having spelling bee's. Chase is really good at spelling, and he's been helping me. The other day, he beat me by one word, and he won for the whole class. Mrs. Teague gave me a gold star sticker, and Chase got a piece of candy. It was pretty cool.   
It's pretty fun playing over at Chase and Michael's. I'm glad they moved to town. I've never had a best friend before. Plus, his parents are really nice, and so is Courtney. Well, I'm going to go see if there's anything on T.V. because I'm bored. 

 

Love,

 

Megan

 

**********

 

 

**_Early October, 1995_   
**

 

 

******It was close to ten at night - not at all late by city standards. Spike was taking a stroll through one of the nicer parts of the bad neighborhoods, not really doing anything. There was going to be a deal going down later on that night, but until then, he had nothing but time. As he rounded a street corner lit by flickering neon, he heard feminine cries coming from a nearby alley. Normally, this would be his cue to keep on walking, but the voice sounded familiar, somehow.  
**

 

******It wasn't his mother's, and if it was Darla, then whoever was harassing her would soon find his throat torn out. As he started to pass, he hesitated for an instant.  
**

 

******"No, please!" the voice screamed.  
**

 

******_Buffy? Is that her?_ Spike jogged down into the alley, suddenly afraid for her.   
**

 

******Away from the light, the teenaged girl struggled ineffectually against two men in dark clothing. A third was lying on the ground, cradling his balls protectively, so Spike could see she'd gotten at least one hit in. She looked up, grime and tears streaking her face, and the blonde teen recognized his schoolmate.  
**

 

******"Hey!" He yelled out, making the two thugs look over.  
**

 

******"Not your problem, buddy. Just walk away." One of the men tightened his grip around Buffy's throat.  
**

 

******Spike snorted, reaching inside his duster to the back of his waistband. Pulling out his Glock, he leveled it at the first man's head. "I think it's your problem, now." His thumb released the safety.  
**

 

******Scowling, they released Buffy, holding their hands up. "Fine. You win, jackass. Take her." The scruffier one spat down on her. "Probably not worth the fuck."  
**

 

******Spike's jaw tightened. "Bugger off, eh?" He turned with them as they scurried away, keeping them in his sights the entire time. Once they'd gone, he put the safety back on the gun and tucked it back in its holster. He dropped down at Buffy's side.  
**

 

******Her shirt was torn, her face smudged, and she'd obviously been crying as she huddled in the dirt of the alley. A ripped duffel bag lay next to her, its contents scattered in the muck. "S-spike?" she stuttered uncertainly.  
**

 

******"Yeah, it's me, pet. C'mon." He stood, helping her regain her feet. "What say we get you out of here?"  
**

 

******Buffy surprised him by not bursting into hysterical tears. Instead, she rose unsteadily, arms immediately wrapping around her chest. Sightless gaze passed over her ruined belongings. She licked her lips mutely.  
**

 

******Spike frowned. _Is that what it looks like when someone goes into shock? Oh, bloody hell._ "Pet?" He tried again. "Buffy?"  
**

 

******Her head turned, eye focusing slowly on his face.  
**

 

******"Let's get you home, love." He jerked his chin towards the alley's exit.  
**

 

******Shivering slightly, Buffy followed him. Her expression was still dazed, her movements mechanical. It was if she was in a catatonic state as she blindly allowed him to guide her.  
**

 

******Pausing once they reached the street, Spike reluctantly addressed her. "Ducks, I don't know where you live. You're going to have to tell me."  
**

 

******After a long moment, Spike was beginning to wonder if she'd even heard him. Then he heard her husky whisper.  
**

 

******"Maple Canyon. 4851."  
**

 

******He grimaced. He hated crossing through that suburb-like cluster of middle-class homes. It bordered right on a section of ghetto ruled by a rival gang faction. Shaking his head, he nevertheless set them on the road that would lead to Maple Canyon Street.  
**

 

******A good while passed before they started entering a better class of neighborhood. Buffy was showing signs of increased alertness, so Spike resumed his attempts to engage her in conversation.  
**

 

******"So, what circumstance made you cross my path tonight?"  
**

 

******She didn't answer, her eyes starting to drift far away. Spike cursed himself, and slung an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry about it. Nothing's going to happen to you now." He guided the turn onto the appropriate street, watching the house numbers. Pretty soon, he was coaxing her up the front steps. As he reached for the bell, the door swung open under his hand.  
**

 

******Spike blinked, his arm still around Buffy. "Um. Hello."  
**

 

******"Buffy Anne Summers," the woman began to scold. "What on earth are you doing outside at this hour? And who is this?"  
**

 

******"Oh, hi." Buffy seemed to wake up all of a sudden. "Mom."  
**

 

******"Don't you pull this on me, young lady. Where on earth have you been?"  
**

 

******"Spike and I were just... hanging out. Right?" Buffy improvised.  
**

 

******Spike nodded in agreement. "That's right, Mrs. Summers."  
**

 

******"Spike?" She clutched her robe tighter around her, taking in his rugged, leather-clad appearance. Just what every mother wants to show up on their doorstep at eleven o'clock at night, while invading their daughter's personal space. Her mouth tightened. "You. Inside. You. Leave," she barked.  
**

 

******Spike didn't bother trying to determine which 'you' referred to him. Ruffling Buffy's hair, he smiled. In a low voice, he offered, "See you at school, love?"  
**

 

******Buffy smiled back. "Yeah. And thanks-" As she turned, her mother grabbed her by the arm, jerked her inside.  
**

 

******"Bye," Spike managed, as the door slammed shut in his face. He snorted. _Not that I blame her._  
**

 

*************

 

_April 7, 2003_

 

Will adjusted his shirt collar, stepping out of his SUV. He leaned against the hood and looked up at the front of the Stevensons' place. Punctual as ever, Courtney opened the front door with a smile. Her hair was back in its habitual ponytail, but instead of shorts and a flannel top, she wore low-rise jeans, an orange tank-top and casual brown sandals on her feet. 

 

Will smiled back. "Hey," he called to her. 

 

"Hey, yourself, stranger. You ready to go?" Her lips were slick with shimmery gloss.

 

He nodded. "The engine's running." 

 

"Great."

 

 

Chapter Six

**_Early October, 1995_   
**

 

**Spike lit up a cigarette as he sat down on the steps outside of Sunnydale High. He was supposed to be in his fifth period history class, but he doubted that his teacher would miss his witty contributions to the discussion. He exhaled, a long plume of smoke drifting skyward. Through half-lidded eyes, Spike noticed someone approaching from his left side.  
**

 

 

******Buffy, uncharacteristically clad in overalls and a long-sleeved shirt, walked up to him, hands shoved deep into her pockets. "Hey."  
**

 

******He took another drag. "Hey yourself, pet." Smoke blew out the corner of his mouth.  
**

 

******"About last night-" she began.  
**

 

******"Oh, yeah, about that. Look pet, you don't have to worry about me scaring your mum anymore, I understand completely and-" Spike's bizarre rambling was cut off abruptly.  
**

 

******Buffy Anne Summers, good little schoolgirl, seized him by the coat collar and plundered his mouth. Deciding to make a proper job of it, she allowed her hands to slide up his neck, deepening the kiss as she coaxed his tongue out to play.  
**

 

******Spike was lost in a wave of lust at the feel of her lips, her touch... _and God, that tongue._ He almost groaned aloud, but didn't want to spare the breath. He pulled her closer against him, letting his hands slip down to caress her back and shoulders.   
**

 

******With one last kiss, Buffy pulled away. Her mouth moist and swollen, she smiled at Spike. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you for being my knight in armor, and scaring those goons away. Thank you for getting me home in one piece. Thank you for not going ballistic on my mom for being a bitch. Thank you for covering for me, and not telling her where we were." Her eyes closed briefly, a shadow of pain flickering across those hazel orbs. "Thank you."  
**

 

******Spike smiled, and kissed her soundly. "If this is what I get for being good, I should try it more often."  
**

 

******She laughed, relaxing, and turned to lean against him. Her arm slid around his waist. Pausing, she let her hand touch the back of his belt. "You're not wearing-"  
**

 

******"No, I'm not. Pretty stupid to pack at school, don't you think? Other than here, though, I go armed at all times." He shrugged. "I tend to cross some fairly nasty people in my end of the neighborhood."  
**

 

******Buffy hesitated once more, then let her arm slide fully around him. _That's the life he lives... and if he didn't you'd be dead by now, Buffy._ Somehow, it didn't make her think any less of him that he carried weapons. To the contrary, the controlled violence he constantly exuded was such an integral part to his person, that she couldn't imagine him without it. He was Spike. That's all there was to it.   
**

 

******Spike looked down at her, and her easy manner. _Chit's gotten under my skin, she has. All bluster and spark._ Switching his cigarette to his other hand, he let his left arm drape over her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze.  
**

 

******"So are we an 'us'?" Buffy asked quietly, a small smile on her lips.  
**

 

******"Does that mean you'll wear those schoolgirl uniforms for me?" Spike countered, but his habitual smirk was replaced with a soft grin.  
**

 

******Buffy's smile widened, and she arched a brow.  
**

 

******He sighed wistfully. "Yeah, pet. I think we're an 'us'."  
**

 

******She pulled him down for another kiss. "You know," she whispered conversationally, "the drama club happens to store props up in the school attic. Props, like this big, comfy couch."  
**

 

******"Really," Spike nearly purred, his jeans tightening at the thought.  
**

 

******Buffy nodded. "Yup. Big, soft couch, lots of pillows. Great place for illicit sex. A little bird told me that there's a way to jam the door from the inside."  
**

 

******Spike's eyebrows shot up. She was willing to sleep with him already? "S'not your, you know-"  
**

 

******"First time?" Buffy laughed hollowly. "Um, no. But that's a depressing story for some other day. Right now, I just want to feel you." She moistened her lips unconsciously. "Please?" Her eyes made promises that Spike wasn't strong enough to deny.  
**

 

******"C'mon then, pet," he murmured huskily, stubbing out his cigarette. "Want to make 'us' official. Want to make you mine."  
**

 

******Buffy smiled, putting her arms around his neck. "Yours," she said simply. "Yours."  
**

 

~*~*~*~  
 _[[click here for smutty version]](https://dl-web.dropbox.com/get/Born%20For%20War%20-%20files%20for%20importing/SpikeBuffy/jorisu/age.html)  
Continue on for clean._  
~*~*~*~

 

******A respectable while later, Buffy hunted for her bra among a stack of Styrofoam props. They could have been fence posts, or perhaps pieces of a replica of the Statue of Liberty. But that was beside the point.  
**

 

******Rumpled, sated, and amused, Spike watched her search. His jeans were still unzipped, his shirt wrinkled and untucked. The duster was slung over the back of the couch. In his hand, he toyed with the scrap of lace and satin he had found between the couch cushions. The self-same item that his girlfriend was hunting so assiduously. _I'd just tell her, but she's so cute when she's getting annoyed..._  
**

 

******"Spike, do you have any idea where you threw it? I mean, it can't have gone too far..." Nibbling her lower lip, Buffy shoved through another pile of cardboard and plastic.  
**

 

******"Dunno, pet. We did get a little athletic, though." His smirk was positively impish.  
**

 

******Buffy looked back at him, and caught sight of her bra dangling from his hand. "Spike!"  
**

 

******He laughed, shaking the undergarment. "Oh, this, you meant?"  
**

 

******"Why, I ought to..." she stalked towards him menacingly. _God, he looks so sexy all sprawled out like that... Mm._   
**

 

******"Nuh-uh, pet." Spike set his tongue against his front teeth. "You want it back, you've got to earn it." His pierced brow twitched at her.  
**

 

******"Oh... Like this, maybe?" Buffy dropped to her knees in front of him, reaching to tug on his jeans.  
**

 

******Her next actions made Spike's eyes roll up into the back of his head, and his nerveless hand dropped her bra onto the seat beside him. At that point, he no longer cared.  
**

 

***********

 

 _April 7, 2003_

 

"Guys?" Courtney yelled, and the peace of the early morning was broken by the thundering of a herd of elephants. Well, actually, it was the thundering of two excited boys, but it was sometimes difficult to distinguish between the two sounds. Laughing at her cousins and their antics, the strawberry blonde snagged a jean jacket and her knapsack from the porch, clattering down the porch stairs in the boys' wake. 

 

Megan rolled down her window. "Hi!" she called, waving madly. 

 

"Hi!" Chase called back, running up to the SUV. Will popped open the back door and gave Michael a boost in. More quickly than anticipated, all three kids were settled in and buckled up. Courtney hopped in on the passenger side. 

 

"I don't think either of them slept a wink last night," she grinned, looking over at Will.

 

He smiled back, closing his door and putting the Explorer into drive. "Can't really blame 'em. You're telling me that you've never been to the Sunnydale Zoo?" he tsked. Squeals of glee came from the back seat. 

 

"Are we there yet?!" 

 

Twenty minutes, five admission tickets, and seventy-five 'Can we go see the lions now?'-s later, Chase, Michael and Megan were pressed eagerly against the stone wall. Will wasn't too concerned. Between the spectator fence and the actual boundaries of the lions' domain was a gap of about fifteen feet. He figured that it was unlikely that any of the kids should fall into the cage. But just in case, he remained within easy snatching distance. 

 

Courtney ruffled Michael's hair, looking down at the great cats. "Lions were always my favorites, you know. When I was growing up. Had a bunch of toy ones in my room." She grinned. 

 

"Let me guess. You named your favorite one Leo?" Will gave her a sideways glance. 

 

She shook her head, grin widening. "You know, that's exactly what my sister kept telling me I should do. But I called him Lion. I knew which one he was, why did he need a name? Plus, 'Leo'? How pedestrian can you get." Courtney rolled her eyes teasingly. 

 

Will laughed. "No offense, pet, but I would've pegged you for pretty ... well, average. Nice, normal, average, and Midwestern." 

 

Courtney snorted. "And I am anything but. Well, I'm nice enough, I suppose. Grew out of my bratty phase. But I've always been a freak-" 

 

"Mom says we're not supposed to say that," Michael interrupted. "It's not nice to say that." 

 

She blinked. "It's okay for me to use it this time, because I was talking about myself, and I didn't mean it in a bad way. But Judy's right, you shouldn't call people names. It's good of you to remember that," she responded, a touch automatically. 

 

"Okay Courtney." 

 

"Hey, do you want to go to the petting zoo? You can actually play with the animals, and feed them, too." Megan was very proud to have the chance to show her friends around the zoo. 

 

Chase's grin was infectious. "Yeah!" 

 

Receiving the nod of approval from her dad, Meg took off at a quick walk, dragging the boys along. 

 

The adults followed at a slightly more sedate pace.

 

"So tell me all about why you're such a freak," Will continued conversationally. 

 

Another smile. Sometimes it seemed like that was all she did. "Well, I never fit in very well at school. Probably because I never stayed at a school long enough to make friends. My dad was in the army, so we spent most of our life moving. Never spent longer than seven months in one town, buzzed around lots of boring places - Kansas, Utah, Iowa, places like that. Middle of nowhere." 

 

Will sat down on a tacky zebra-striped bench, eyes sliding over the image of his daughter petting a young goat. "Sounds lonely." 

 

His companioned sobered. "Yeah," she replied quietly. "It kind of was." She watched him carefully. Will was the kind of guy that would surprise you constantly. He was so mature, so responsible, and yet, he wasn't that much older than she was. She wondered what exactly had happened to make him grow up so fast. 

 

"Yeah," she repeated, breaking from her reverie with a blush. Courtney hoped he hadn't noticed her staring. "So that, plus acne that just wouldn't quit, add braces and glasses, and now you know why I'm such a big big freak." 

 

He smiled over at her. An eyebrow quirked, and she noticed for the first time that there was a small white scar running through it. 

 

"Well, I don't know about the lonely part, but you seem to have gotten over the rest of it." 

 

Perfect white teeth. 

 

"So, what about you?" she quickly spoke, looking over at the boys. Michael was giggling madly as a bunch of sheep crowded close to eat from his hand. "Let me guess about you in high school. Quiet, a little shy, chess club?" 

 

Internally, Will snorted. "Actually, I'm not really one for clubs of any type. But I was a loner. Didn't really want friends." _Didn't really want anything, except for her._ He gritted his teeth, forcing his mind away from that train of thought. Those bridges had been burned long ago. He sighed, looking back to Courtney. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he still was forced to squint. "U Conn, huh? Tell me about it," he urged. "And how on earth did you end up in Connecticut?" 

 

"It's a pretty long story. See, back when my mom was in college, her brother was in the ROTC..." 

 

Blonde children playing in the sunlight. Fresh breeze on a spring morning. Animal braying and neighing in the background. 

 

Will flexed his hands, listening to Courtney's anecdote with half of his attention. The rest of it focused on the knife scars that criss-crossed his pale skin. 

 

 _You've come a long way, Spike._ His daughter's laugh rang out. 

 

_A very long way._

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

April 10, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

I love the zoo. I love lions and tigers and bears and birds, and I love to watch the zebras and play with the goats and baby cows. I like the pony rides, too. Michael was so funny, the sheep kept crowding all around him, I thought they were going to knock him down, but there was a fence in the way. Because he's too little to pet the sheep by himself, he could get hurt. I still want a little sister. But it's nice to play with Chase and Michael, too. Because when I get tired of sharing, I can just tell them to go home. And they have their own toys, and games, and costumes. They don't have a lot of girl dress up clothes, but I don't care. I'd rather be a knight anyway, than some stupid girl who faints all the time and has to be rescued. I want to do the rescuing. I want to be the hero, too. 

 

Love,

 

Megan

 

**********

 

**_October, 1995_   
**

 

**Buffy stormed into school early that morning. She was fuming, and dressed to kill. Skintight leather pants, a scandalous red shirt, dark make-up, high heeled boots... Spike knew all the signs. And right now, they all pointed to "Furious Buffy! Big fight with parents! Extremely aggressive sex to be had very soon!"  
**

 

 

******Parts of him, (the southern parts) were delighted. The rest of him hurt for her, and not in that low-down, tingly way. _Why do they do that to her? Catch her in the middle of the fights, make her feel like things are her fault, force her to act out when all she wants to do is get away..._  
**

 

******For a street punk, Spike was remarkably well-versed in the psychology of the situation. But the time for thinking was past. His girlfriend, and the time for heated kisses, was here.  
**

 

******Buffy threw herself at him, kissing him savagely. No words of greeting, just demanding lips and an agile tongue. She grabbed the collar of his duster, pulling him closer to her. "Attic," she gasped out between kisses. "Now."  
**

 

******Before the first bell even had the chance to ring, the teens were upstairs and back on their couch. _Well,_ thought Spike, as clothing began to hit the floor. _I really didn't want to go to class anyway..._   
**

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

******"So," he ventured, after yet another period had come and gone. "'s there a particular reason for this morning's athleticism, or you just missed me over the weekend?"  
**

 

******Smirk.  
**

 

******Buffy made a face, and snuggled closer against his bare, sweat-slickened chest. Her fingertips skated idly across his slippery skin. "I hate when they fight, you know," she began softly. "The screaming, the yelling. Throwing things at each other, threatening things about custody and alimony and getting lawyers in the mix. I hate it."  
**

 

******Spike listened intently, somehow knowing that there was more to it than just the fighting.  
**

 

******"But this morning... this morning, I found out what I hate more than when they fight." Her fist clenched, making crescent-shaped impressions on her palms. "I hate when they agree."  
**

 

******He blinked. "What happened, love?" he prompted, mildly confused and completely concerned.  
**

 

******"We've been dating for what, two weeks?" Buffy seemingly changed the subject. "Two weeks. Two weeks in which Mom has met you twice, and Dad has seen you in passing all of one time."  
**

 

******Spike was getting a bad feeling about where this was headed.  
**

 

******"They agreed," she stressed the word, "that something has gone terribly wrong with their baby girl if she is interested in an 'obnoxious, devil-worshipping miscreant with a facial piercing', end quote. They screamed at each other for three hours over whose fault it is, but the result's the same. I'm not supposed to see you again, ever." Buffy looked up at him, her hazel eyes forlorn.  
**

 

******He just laughed. "Is that it? Hell, ducks, they're not the boss of me. I can see you whenever I soddin' like. You knew from the get go that I was likely to piss them off, and nothing's changed." Gentle fingertips brushed her cheek, and his voice quieted. "You don't have to be so worked up, love. I'm not going anywhere. Your parents can kiss my obnoxious, miscreant ass. Though I've never worshipped the devil, at least, not that I know of."  
**

 

******Buffy smiled hesitantly, victim of Spike's infectious grin. "Damn," she murmured, leaning forward to brush her lips over his. "You always know exactly what to say."  
**

 

******Spike's eyebrows waggled lasciviously. "It's a gift."  
**

 

******"Mmm hmm..."  
**

 

******"Oh, yeah." His arms slid more snugly around her body. "Want to see what other 'gifts' I've got?"  
**

 

******She let out a muffled shriek as he pounced, giggling the whole time. "God, I love you," she burst out.  
**

 

******Spike stopped, staring at her. Then, he kissed her soundly. "Yeah, pet," he smiled. A genuine smile, not a leer or a smirk or a cocky grin. Spike smiled at her. His eyes half lidded, and he sighed. "I love you too." Their foreheads touched, and he scowled playfully. "You've gone and ruined it. I was gonna wait, and be all sweet, and make you swoon, but you had to go and say it first."  
**

 

******Buffy could tell by his eyes that he really wasn't upset. So she kissed him again. _He loves me!_   
**

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

******Finally having made it to a few classes, Buffy was at her locker when the final bell rang. She half-lidded her eyes as she felt strong hands slide around her waist from behind. "Mmm, Tyler," she teased, leaning back.  
**

 

******Spike snorted, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I bloody well hope you aren't letting that wanker feel you up." He casually groped her breasts, making his point.  
**

 

******Buffy wiggled against him. "Possessive?"  
**

 

******"You know I am, love." He kissed her cheek, then looked into her locker as she grabbed some textbooks. "What's that?" One hand let go of her waist to touch a large white envelope tucked inside one of her books.  
**

 

******"Um, nothing," Buffy fidgeted, starting to shove the envelope into her bag.  
**

 

******"Evasive... and now I simply have to know." He snatched at it.  
**

 

******"No!" she bit out, blushing horribly. The envelope evaded his grasp.  
**

 

******The time for fair play was over.  
**

 

******Suddenly, a warm, wet mouth closed over her neck, and began doing unspeakably wonderful things to her pulse point. Strong, muscled arms tightened around her waist, pulling her snugly back against an equally muscled body. Buffy felt all melty and warm. She sighed, relaxing completely.  
**

 

******As soon as she dropped her guard, Spike snatched up the envelope and held it triumphantly. "Ha!"  
**

 

******Buffy's blush darkened. "Hey! That's not fair!"  
**

 

******He flipped his tongue at her. "Yeah, but it was fun," he grinned. Without waiting, he flipped open the envelope and looked inside. Spike stared. "What's this?"  
**

 

******Buffy twitched, trying to grab it back. "Can we not do this?"  
**

 

******Spike looked over at her, trying to see if his actions were genuinely upsetting her. A once over, and he knew that she was just flustered. Potentially embarrassed, but not angry. "What's the matter, pet? They're good."  
**

 

******"No, they're stupid." She sighed in resignation, dropping her weight against the locker. "Go ahead, tell me how dumb I look."  
**

 

******Spike pulled out the stack of photographs. Buffy in a blue t-shirt, leaning against a wall. Buffy in jeans and a tank top, standing in front of a wall of tools. Buffy in a short skirt, sitting like a doll on a shelf. Buffy in a little silk robe. Buffy in a leather jacket and pink sundress. Buffy, in black and white, sitting in a corner. Buffy, the coquette. Buffy, the sophisticate. Evening gowns, casual wear, sitting, standing, lying down... there were dozens of them, all different. All beautiful.  
**

 

******He swallowed hard. "You're stunning, love."  
**

 

******Blushing still, she made a face. "You still think they're dumb."  
**

 

******Spike licked his lips. "No, not dumb... just... why?" He was still staring.  
**

 

******Buffy grabbed the photos, starting to cram them back in the envelope. "My mom... When I was little, she used to take me to these modeling gigs... I did some commercials, some local advertising. She still makes me get a portfolio update every year, and she drags me to auditions on weekends sometimes." She was mumbling, as if it were something shameful.  
**

 

******Spike looked confused. "And what's wrong with that, besides the fact that everyone gets to ogle my girl?"  
**

 

******She shrugged. "I don't know. It's just... I don't know. Can we just go?" Buffy batted her eyelashes at him.  
**

 

******Spike chuckled. "You've got me whipped, you know that?"  
**

 

******She grinned, triumphant, and held out her book bag to him. "Pretty please?"  
**

 

******"Only if there's whipped cream and syrup involved," he added, giving her a heated glance.  
**

 

******Buffy's eyes darkened. "Oh, yeah," she breathed. Distracted by his words, and the mental images produced by them, she failed to notice when he slipped one of the pictures into his duster pocket.  
**

 

**********

 

_April 10, 2003_

 

"Hello?" A statuesque blonde leaned into the garage, calling out loudly. "Is anyone here?" She strode briskly inside. 

 

Will set down his wrench and wiped his hands on the front of his coveralls. "Can I help you?" 

 

"Yes. I'm looking for Xander," she replied. 

 

He paused for a second, thinking, and then his face brightened. "Are you Anya?" 

 

The blonde beamed. "Yes! Yes, I am. Has Xander been talking about me?" 

 

Will grinned at her. "Yeah, he might've mentioned something along the lines of 'gorgeous woman I'm going to be marrying'..." 

 

Right then, the man in question came back into the garage. His eyes lit on his girlfriend, and he smiled broadly. "Anya!"

 

She blew him a kiss. "What's taking you so long? We're supposed to go to dinner now." 

 

"Oops, sorry sweetie. You know how I get when someone brings in a new Harley. Got caught up with working on the Softail..." He suddenly had a dazed, dreamy expression as he trailed off. 

 

Anya frowned, clapping her hands sharply to get his attention. "Xander Harris, the only time you are allowed to make that face is when I am giving pleasure to your penis. Now let's go!" 

 

William choked. 

 

Xander blushed. 

 

Anya remained unperturbed. "I'm hungry." 

 

"Uh... did I mention she's blunt?" 

 

A snicker. "Go ahead and take off, Xand. It's rude to keep the lady waiting." Since the initial shock was wearing off, Will felt free to be amused at the woman's utter tactlessness. 

 

"Thanks, man." 

 

In moments, Xander had cleaned up, grabbed his keys, and was headed out the door. William shook his head, and went back to the tune-up he interrupted. He snickered quietly. _That chit's got a bigger pair of stones than the whelp..._

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

April 12, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

I have a secret. Except it's not really a secret, but I want to pretend because I never have any secrets to tell. Dad is going on a date tonight, but he's trying to make like it's not really a date, because I think he thinks I'm too little to understand. But I don't mind. I like Courtney. She's really nice. I think she'd be a good mom. Even though I know that just being boyfriend and girlfriend doesn't mean you're getting married, because Kristin and Robbie were boyfriend and girlfriend, and they got mad at each other, and broke up right afterwards. I know that. I'm not silly like that. But I still wish I had a mom sometimes. Even if she wasn't my really for real mom. 

 

Love,

 

Megan

 

**********

 

**_November, 1995_   
**

 

**Spike swore under his breath as he jogged through yet another alleyway. A hop, a slap of chain link, and he was over the fence that impeded his passage. He wasn't quite running, because that attracted the wrong kind of attention. And while you were on the wrong side of the city, attention could get you killed. Three months ago, he wouldn't have cared. He would've laughed aloud, and strolled through the streets, daring anyone to mess with him. Back then, he really didn't have anything to lose.  
**

 

 

******He felt incredibly old for his sixteen years, expelling a breath now that he was on familiar ground. Sixteen years of running and hiding, of stealing and killing and putting himself and the family first. For the first time, he felt like there was something outside of himself that mattered. His calloused hand slipped into his pocket, fingering the photograph of Buffy he had nicked a few weeks back.  
**

 

******Now, if anything happened to him from recklessness, she would get hurt. And again, for the first time, it was important that she stay safe, stay happy, stay protected. Because for the first time, Spike was in love.  
**

 

******Nearing the apartment complex, he lit up a cigarette. He cursed again, seeing Gunn and Chain standing in the doorway. They didn't look happy, which meant Angel wasn't happy. Not a good thing.  
**

 

******He paused for a second, taking a deep drag to settle himself. In that second, a random thought flitted across his mind. _Spike, Gunn, and Chain..._ He snorted. _We could start a thrash-metal band._   
**

 

******Flicking the ember to the ground, he nodded to the guys as he started inside. "Hey."  
**

 

******Gunn gave him a sidelong glance. "Watch your ass. He's pissed."  
**

 

******Spike waved his thanks, and headed for the stairs. _What happened now?_** **Hesitantly, he swung open the apartment door, glancing around to get a feel for the situation. Drusilla was huddled in a corner, talking quietly with the wall. Angel was turning purple with suppressed violence. Darla had her hand on her holster. Lilah Morgan, seated on the couch once more, looked smug.  
**

 

******_Uh-oh..._ Spike froze in the doorway.   
**

 

******"You see, Mr. Angel, I don't see how you have any option but to comply. Not unless you want your son to spend the next five to seven years in a state facility," The lawyer continued pleasantly.  
**

 

******Darla's jaw clenched tightly, and her gaze narrowed.  
**

 

******"You're out of your fucking mind!" Angel exploded. "You know that's not how things work - you can't just barge into my home with ultimatums, and dangle my child's future in front of me like bait!"  
**

 

******"It's a simple exchange. A business transaction. We get what we want, you get your son released on a technicality... but without our help, you know very well that Connor will wind up in a juvenile detention center. He may be just thirteen, but aggravated assault charges tend to stick." She smiled politely, re-crossing her legs.  
**

 

******Angel paled, and Spike knew that he was about to do something stupid.  
**

 

******Sure enough, everyone in the room who was armed drew their weapons on Ms. Morgan. The lawyer didn't even flinch.  
**

 

******"Now, this is completely unnecessary. It won't fix your problem," she spoke smoothly.  
**

 

******"You knew from the beginning, we don't get involved with politics. I gave you access to our information networks, I hooked your firm into the cops and D.A.'s that are on the take, and I even arranged some witness 'accidents' for you," Angel snarled. "We've done everything we agreed to do. But high profile killing, it's not our department. Can't help you. Now stick to our arrangement, and get me back my son!"  
**

 

******Lilah sighed regretfully. "It's not going to happen. The senior partners were explicit. Either Governor Wilson lacks a pulse in the next two weeks, or Connor will no longer be represented by Wolfram and Hart."  
**

 

******Angel slid back the hammer, his entire body tense with near-uncontrollable rage.  
**

 

******The lawyer merely raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. "I'm sure you remember my associate, Mr. Lindsay MacDonald. If for some reason, I fail to return to the office this evening, he will take over this project. And Connor will still be gone."  
**

 

******Darla cursed, throwing one of her knives across the room. It embedded in the wall approximately five inches from Lilah's head.  
**

 

******Finally, the unruffled woman flinched.  
**

 

******"I should tear you to pieces," the blonde growled. "Slit your throat and bathe in your blood, so the governor can meet you in hell and spit on you."  
**

 

******"Does that mean we have an agreement?" Ms. Morgan reached for her briefcase.  
**

 

******Angel replaced the safety, the vein in his forehead still throbbing visibly. "Wilson for Connor, you bitch. Now get out of my house."  
**

 

******She smiled. Standing, Lilah extended her hand, then thought better of it. "Normally, I would say it's been a pleasure, Angel, but-"  
**

 

******"GET OUT!!" he roared, grabbing a lamp and flinging it at her. The glass hit the wall and shattered. "OUT!"  
**

 

******Spike jerked the door open to expedite the lawyer's exit. He slammed it shut after her, and ducked to avoid the knife that was flung in her wake. "Hey!" he shouted. "Watch it, Darla." Reaching up, he yanked the blade from the wood. Striding angrily over to the center of the room, he slammed it down on the coffee table. "Now what the hell was that all about?"  
**

 

******All of the energy seemed to deflate out of Angel. "Connor got picked up earlier today. Seems he's been somehow connected to a petty thief that was found beaten unconscious. A thief named Lenny James."  
**

 

******"What? But I'm the one who got Lenny. Shit, that's where I was last night. He was shorting on the take. How the hell did Connor get busted for that? He wasn't even there." Spike was torn between confusion and rage. He might not be related to Angel's son by blood, but considering their bizarre little family situation, he was practically Spike's kid brother.  
**

 

******Angel's eyes flashed pain. "I know. And I'm not blaming you-"  
**

 

******"YOU might not be," Darla glowered at the blonde teen. "I, on the other hand, want to kill something."  
**

 

******Spike's hands clenched. "And who was the one who sent me after Lenny? Oh, right, Darla, it was you. Stupid bint. Shut the fuck up and let me talk to Angel."  
**

 

******"It's a fucking set up. Wolfram and Hart can't find a way to keep Governor Wilson from pushing through some law that will piss off some of their clients, and they want me to take care of him."  
**

 

******"But we don't do assassination. Well, not frequently. And not big names," Spike argued.  
**

 

******"Didn't you fucking hear me say that all of ten minutes ago? The bitch doesn't care. And neither do her bosses. Either we take care of their problem, or Connor stays in juvie until he's 18." Angel was too macho to cry, but he was the closest to tears that he'd ever been in his life.** **"So we're going to do it," Spike asked, incredulous.  
**

 

******"Do we have a choice?" Darla whispered, sitting down on the loveseat and pulling her legs up to her chest. "Do we?"  
**

 

******She looked so lost, curled up in a ball like that, so lonely. _She might not be the best of mums, but hey, she tries..._ "Who's doing it, then?"   
**

 

******Shaking his head, Angel sighed. "Don't know yet. Faith, maybe?" He scrubbed his face with his hands. "She used to be tight with the mayor, and shit. She could get in."  
**

 

******Spike shook his head. "No good. She's been fucking herself up every night. I wouldn't trust her to keep her shit together for an hour, much less however long this'll take. Someone has got to get her off the junk."  
**

 

******Angel gave him a look. "That, right now, is so far down my list of priorities..." he began.  
**

 

******"And I'm just trying to help get Connor back," he interrupted. "So how are we going to play this?"  
**

 

**********

****_April 12, 2003_

 

Courtney swirled the wine slowly in her glass. "So." 

 

William toyed with the last bite of his steak, not really wanting to finish it, but feeling compelled to triumph over the dead cow. "Yeah, pet?" 

 

She cocked her head to the side. "Will... What happened with Megan's mom? I mean, I know it's not really my business, and you don't have to tell me anything if you think I'm out of line, I was just wondering..." 

 

He blinked slowly. "You're not out of line. I see how you'd be curious." William shrugged, taking a sip from his own glass. "It didn't work out. It stopped working before I came to Sunnydale. And there's no chance in hell of it ever working again." 

 

"Oh." She looked away briefly. "I'm sorry." 

 

Another shrug. "You don't have to be. It's ancient history. I don't talk about her, really. Actually, I don't talk about her at all. To anyone." 

 

Courtney was taken aback. "Not even to Meg?" 

 

Will shook his head. "She doesn't even know what her mum's name is." 

 

"I wish I could say that I understand, but frankly, I don't. I know there's a lot you're not telling me, but... that's not fair to Meg." 

 

"Hey, I was raised without knowing who my da was, and I managed perfectly fine. So don't tell me how to raise my daughter," William's replied heatedly.

 

Courtney took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. "No, that's not what I meant. Dammit, Will, I'm sorry I even started this whole thing. Can we just forget I even brought it up? I didn't mean to piss you off." She bit her lip, anxious. 

 

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he sighed. "M'sorry. It's just, you know, seven years and she still ruins my life at every opportunity." He tried to grin, but it fell flat. William shifted uncomfortably. "I don't do so well with the whole, 'let's relive our past' bit. I'm pretty much here-and-now." 

 

"I'd kind of noticed," she grinned wryly. After knocking back the last of her wine, she laughed quietly. "So do we want to get dessert? Or just get out of here?" 

 

Will set down his fork and pulled his napkin from his lap. "Let's get out of here," he chuckled, reaching for the bill. 

 

Courtney beat him to it. "I've got it." 

 

He frowned. "But-" 

 

"No buts. I can swing it. My treat. If you feel bad, you can get us ice cream or something down by the boardwalk, okay?" 

 

Will shook his head, defeated. "Alright. Though I can't possibly imagine eating again." 

 

Blue eyes sparkled at him. "Guess we'll just have to work up that appetite." 

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

April 14, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

I get to go over to Chase's house today. That's awesome. I hope we get to do something fun. Like go swimming. Or play in the sprinklers. Maybe we can bake some cookies, or paint. Whatever happens, I know it will be fun. And I can tease Courtney about going out with Dad. We'll probably sing that song to her, you know, Courtney and Dad are sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G... Because they did. I saw them. And it wasn't a kiss on the cheek like Jordan's mom gives him when she drops him off at soccer practice. It was on the mouth. Ew! I hope they didn't give each other cooties. But I don't think Dad has cooties, he's too nice. Do grownups even get cooties? I hope not. That would be gross.Love,

 

Megan

 

**********

 

**_November, 1995_   
**

 

**A glass tumbler full of scotch shattered against the kitchen wall. "You will listen to me when I'm talking to you!" Hank Summers snarled, shaking an unsteady fist at his daughter.  
**

 

 

******"No! I'm done listening. I can't do this anymore. God, I would love to be doing anything else right now - I'm just so sick of all your bullshit!" Buffy screamed, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes.  
**

 

******"Buffy Anne Summers," Joyce scowled, standing beside her husband. "You cannot talk to us this way. This is insane-"  
**

 

******"And you're making me insane! The two of you are at each other's throats, twenty-four seven! Dad, you fucking moved out! But every other weekend, I come home, and you're sleeping together! Mom, you hate his guts, but you're sleeping with him? God, figure it out already! I can't be here like this!" the teen sobbed, clutching her duffle bag closer to her.  
**

 

******Joyce's response was deceptively calm. Reaching out, she placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Buffy, you need help. I know this is hard on all of us-"  
**

 

******Buffy threw off her mom's hands. "I'm _not_ crazy! What I need is for you to chill. I _have_ to go! I've got to get out of here..." Tears streamed freely down her cheeks.   
**

 

******Joyce's eyes narrowed, and she shook her head firmly. Her jaw tightened. "No. I am not letting you out of this house."  
**

 

******Her lips trembled, but her voice didn't falter. "You can't stop me."  
**

 

******Infuriated, Joyce grabbed her by the arms. "Oh yes, I-"  
**

 

******Again she was interrupted, this time by a violent shove that knocked her into the kitchen table. Hank was speechless with drunken rage.  
**

 

******For a split second, Buffy just looked at her parents, then shook her head. Turning, she opened the back door.  
**

 

******Angrily, Joyce shouted after her. "You walk out of this house, don't even _think_ about coming back!"  
**

 

******And yet, Buffy never paused.  
**

 

******In the driveway was a black DeSoto, engine running. Spike, punctual as always, was waiting to get her for their date. Torn between hysterical tears and equally hysterical relief, Buffy tore open the door to Spike's borrowed car. "Let's go," she bit out, slamming it shut behind her.  
**

 

******Spike took one look at her disheveled appearance and packed bags, and peeled out.  
**

 

******"God, I'm sorry," Buffy sighed, making a token attempt at straightening her hair. "I know we were supposed to go to the beach today, and stuff, but..."  
**

 

******"I get it," he nodded sympathetically. "Want to go over to Faith's and crash for a while? Don't think she'll mind."  
**

 

******Buffy nodded. As they drove in silence, her mind raced. _What am I going to do now? I can't go home - not that I want to, not that I would. But where will I stay? I know there's shelters and stuff, maybe I should. Have to ask Spike, I can't just assume he'll want me to come home with him, not that I've ever been to his house... Maybe Faith'll want another roomie, but what will I use for rent? I don't have anything..._ Her thoughts grew bleaker, and she spiraled downward into a knot of anxiety. ** **Spike glanced over at his girlfriend as he made a sharp left. _I wonder what the morons did now... and is she running away again? Where's the chit planning on staying? ... Oh god, don't let her ask to stay with me. I mean, I would, but... Angel's head would pop. Would be kind of funny, but... not now! Not with all this shit going down over Connor. If she's in the house, she's a liability. She's not one of us, I mean, I trust her, but the others won't. They can't. And it could get her killed._ His stomach did an uncomfortable flip at that thought. Reluctance to commit assassination aside, Spike knew that Angel would have no problem in having a liability put down. Permanently.   
**

 

******Inevitably, Buffy's frantic thoughts circled back to her biggest concern. Her hands tightened convulsively around her bag, and the pamphlet she'd secreted inside. For the hundredth time since that morning, she repeated her new mantra to herself.  
**

 

******_It's not a baby, it's a product of conception, a mass of cells, a clot of tissue. It's not a baby..._   
**

 

**********

 

_April 14, 2003_

 

Megan squealed as she leapt into the Stevenson's pool. Bobbing up through the surface of the water, she laughed, snorting water out of her mouth and nose. 

 

Michael giggled, watching her. He stamped his foot impatiently as he waited for Courtney to finish blowing up his wing-floaters. Finally, the bright orange rings around his little biceps were filled, and she gave him a swat on the behind. 

 

"You're good to go, Michael-monster." She shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun as he went over to the edge of the swimming pool. He dipped one foot in the water, and then ran over to the stairs. He got in to his ankles, then stopped. 

 

"It's cold!" The tow-headed four-year old did a little dance of uncertainty on the top step of the pool. 

 

Chase gave him a look of superiority, the specific look that a seven-year old who knows how to swim gives his little brother. "You always say that. Stop being a baby." 

 

Megan giggled at the exchange. "You're both silly. Yeah, it's cold, but it feels good!" She splashed a little wave in Michael's direction. 

 

Courtney slipped on her sunglasses and settled down on the lounge chair where she could keep an eye on the pool. Picking up her dog-eared copy of _The Last DragonLord_ , she began to read.

 

Back in the water, Michael had finally succumbed to peer pressure, and was happily splashing in the shallow end.

 

"Are you going to take swimming class this summer?" Megan wanted to know. 

 

"No," Chase replied, ducking under. "But I'm going to day camp. I think I'm going to be learning about the ocean and stuff, because it's by the beach." 

 

Megan stared at him, then splashed. "But it's summer! You don't have to learn!" 

 

Chase splashed back. "You're silly!" he laughed. "It's fun! We get to play on the beach, and learn about sharks and dolphins, and all sorts of cool stuff."

 

She relented, dog paddling out of his splash-range. "I guess it sounds neat." 

 

He stuck his tongue out. "You like school, and camp is better. So why would it not be fun?" 

 

Megan was spared from having to express her feelings on the subject, because Michael found a ball. The soggy Nerf football slapped the water in front of her. 

 

"Tag!" he squealed, following up with a splash. 

 

She backpedaled furiously. "No! It didn't hit me!" 

 

"Uh!" the younger child pouted, then threw himself out to try to recover the ball. Much splashing and wrestling ensued. "Not fair!" Michael called out. "You two swim better than me!" 

 

Megan immediately drew closer to him. "It's not hard, you just have to kick with your- hey!" The ball bounced off the top of her head. 

 

Michael laughed, while Chase just rolled his eyes. "You're such a girl. I can't believe you fell for that," the older boy told her, flipping his wet hair out of his eyes. 

 

Michael giggled again. Megan's gaze narrowed. "What did you say?" 

 

"I said," Chase taunted with a grin, "that you're such a girl. You probably throw like one, too," he teased. 

 

With a mock growl, she launched herself at him, ready to destroy her target.

 

Well away from the pool's splash radius, Courtney continued to read. Suddenly, a shadow fell across her book, and she glanced up. 

 

"What book?" Will asked with a grin. 

 

Wordlessly, she tilted it so that he could read the cover. 

 

"Huh. You know, Maurynna's his soul-twin. And Sherrine is going to die," he commented. 

 

"I know," Courtney replied blithely. "I've read it a few times." Sitting up, she gestured to the chair beside hers. "Pop a squat." 

 

"Pop a _what_? Never mind. Must be a midwestern thing." Nevertheless, he sat down. "Always did like that book," he continued along the original line of conversation. 

 

She grinned at him. "Yeah. I always thought it was pretty... real, you know? How Linden has this big, heavy affair with Sherrine, and everyone thinks that the two of them are supposed to be together, but in the end, he winds up with Maurynna. And no one knew they were anything but friends." 

 

For the first time, William noticed that Courtney had a dimple - just a tiny one, on her right cheek. It was cute. "I know what you mean. Plus, every good book has mischevious children to make things interesting," he laughed. 

 

Courtney joined in his amusement with a nod. "Yeah, but it was so sad when Linden and Maurynna were fighting, and little Kella and Rann got caught in the middle..." Her expression was tinged with a detached sadness. 

 

Will nodded seriously. "Kids take it hard when things happen between adults they trust." He gave her a meaningful glance. 

 

Courtney immediately sobered. "Will, I'm being up front. I like you - I like you a lot. I enjoy your company, and moreso, I value your friendship. The last thing I want is for Meg, or the boys, or you to get hurt." She gave a little half-smile. 

 

William relaxed. "I just wanted to be sure," his voice lowered, "that after the other night..." He trailed off.

 

Courtney's smile blossomed into a full grin. "The other night was one of the best nights in my life. And that's okay." She shrugged. "It doesn't have to mean anything more, not if you don't want it too." A chuckle. "After all, we did slam back that bottle of wine." 

 

Will snorted. "Yeah, right. God, we must be the most boring dates in the history of California." 

 

"Hey!" she protested. "I object! I have grandparents who live out here, who are much more boring than we are! Plus, our date was not boring." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "At least, I wouldn't say that." 

 

His expression turned wistful. "Really? I mean," a touch of red colored his cheeks, and his voice dropped even further. "It's been a while for me..." 

 

Courtney grinned. "Trust me. Not boring." She glanced over at the pool, but the kids were happily splashing away, oblivious to the conversation being held not fifteen feet away. "Not at all." 

 

"I feel the need to say 'thank you', but somehow, it feels conceited," Will complained, and got the laugh he was looking for. 

 

"Well, you're welcome." She gave him a once-over. "So how long has it been? I mean, if you don't mind saying." 

 

Will groaned softly. "Uh, three years, I think? A while back, some of the ladies of the town took it upon themselves to find me a woman." He snorted. "Wound up dating some chit, name of Harmony Kendall." He shook his head sadly. "The most annoying piece of work to ever draw breath." 

 

A giggle. "Wait, is this _that_ Harmony? The aerobics instructor down at the gym?" 

 

Another nod. 

 

"Oh, god!" she gasped, bursting into a fit of laugher. "I am so sorry!"

 

"Shut up!" Will hissed, blushing. "I was lonely!" 

 

A wet ball landed by Courtney's chair. Still chortling, she picked it up. "Hey," she called out. "Someone lose this?" 

 

Meg waved her hands frantically. 

 

With a wink at Will, Courtney drew back and launched the football at his daughter. A splash hit all three children as the ball contacted the water. 

 

The tall strawberry blonde turned back to her conversation with a deep sigh. She shook her head ruefully. "Damn. Harmony Kendall." 

 

"Shut up!" 

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

April 16, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

I'm so excited! Today is the day we get our new teacher. I hope it's a nice teacher, that knows a lot of new songs. I like music class. We sing this one song with Mrs. Jonston, it's called "The Rattlin' Bog" and it's so much fun. There are like, a million verses and they all get longer. Like, you start where there's a tree in the bog. Then a bough on the tree, in the bog. ('Bough' was one of our spelling words this week. It's a weird word.) Then there's a branch on the bough, on the tree, in the bog. And then a nest on the branch, on the bough, on the tree, in the bog. And on and on, until you get a flea on the wing of the bird on the egg, in the nest, on the branch, on the bough, on the tree, in the bog, and the bog's down in the valley! It's a fun song. Ok, well the bus is almost here, and I need to go get my lunch from Dad. So, bye!  
Love,

 

Megan 

 

 

**********

 

 

**_November 1995_   
**

 

 

******Buffy sighed as she climbed the stairs to Faith's apartment. No matter how many times she saw where the brunette lived, it always made her chest hurt. Faded, peeling paint on the exterior, garbage piled in the hallways. Broken furniture and stained mattresses slumped in the alleyway outside, homes for the homeless. It always smelled faintly of sweat and urine. She wondered, from time to time, how Faith could stand to live here.  
**

 

******Spike knocked on the door, for the tenth time. Rolling his eyes, he flipped out his knife and jimmied the cheap lock. The door slid open, then jerked to a stop. He'd forgotten the chain.  
**

 

******"Faith?" he called, reaching through the crack to feel for the light switch. Finding it, he flicked the overhead a few times. A low moan came from the other side of the room.  
**

 

******"Faith?" he called, louder this time. The moan became a whimper. Clenching his jaw, Spike suddenly feared that something had happened to his friend. Stepping back, he slammed his shoulder against the door, yanking the chain stop out of the cheap, rotting door frame.  
**

 

******Instead of the bruised, bleeding wreck he feared to find, Spike instead saw only a dark form slumped on the battered couch. A belt was tied around her upper arm, and her head lolled to the side. "S..spike?" she murmured, and then her eyes rolled back.  
**

 

******Spike cursed. "Come on in, Buffy. Got to get her cleaned up. Just... yeah." Sighing, he walked over to the couch, peeling back one of Faith's eyelids.  
**

 

******Buffy entered the dingy apartment, closing the door behind her. For a moment, she tried to put the broken chain's post back into the wood, but quickly gave it up as a lost cause. _I know how Faith can stand this place. She's never really here._  
**

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

******A little while later, Faith was curled up on her side in bed. Spike had thrown away the used syringe, unfastened the belt, and put a blanket over her. Turning to Buffy, he half-smiled an apology.  
**

 

******She just looked away.  
**

 

******"Hey," he murmured. "Are you doing okay, pet?" He brushed her arm affectionately, trying to pull her close for a hug.  
**

 

******Uncharacteristically, Buffy shrugged him away. "I'm fine. I'm just... really wigged. Not by Faith, just by... everything." For the first time that day, she looked up and met his gaze. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore."  
**

 

******"Shh, none of that." Spike cupped her cheek gently, tracing her lower lip with his thumb. "It'll all work out. I'm here, pet, and you know I'd never let anything 'appen."  
**

 

******"Really?" she asked, eyes filling with tell-tale moisture. She was floundering, and she knew it. But she could do this. She could do anything, if Spike was there with her.  
**

 

******In reply, he kissed her. It wasn't a potent, sexual kiss, but a comforting one. Passion-filled, promise-filled, and salty with mingled tears. Long moments later, Spike opened his eyes and rested his forhead against Buffy's.  
**

 

******Her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled weakly. "Well, if you say so."  
**

 

******He chuckled softly, the dropped a second, shorter kiss on her mouth. "C'mon. You got anything semi-nice in those bags?"  
**

 

******Puzzled by the change of topic, she replied slowly. "Yeah... I mean, there's a sundress and a sweater..." _Stuff that's already loose-fitting..._ She squelched that thought ruthlessly.   
**

 

******"Put it on. You can leave your stuff in the bedroom; I'll leave a note for Faith." Spike was rummaging in the entryway closet, coming up with a button-down shirt.  
**

 

******Buffy didn't even want to know how that had gotten there. "Where are we going?"  
**

 

******A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his eyes hardened briefly. "To start paying rent."  
**

 

************************

_April 16, 2003_

 

Megan squirmed eagerly in her seat as the long-anticipated moment came. The principal, Ms. Barton, walked into the music classroom with a smile. 

 

"Kids, I know that we're all going to miss Mrs. Jonston, and that no one can really take her place. But I'm here to introduce you to your music teacher for the rest of the year. We're lucky to have such a talented musician working with us, even if it is just for a few weeks. So, please, everyone stand up and say hello to Mr. Osborne." The elderly woman smiled broadly at the students. 

 

Obediently, the second-graders stood to their feet and chorused, "Hello, Mr. Osborne." 

 

Daniel Osborne blinked slowly as he looked around the classroom. _Whoa. Well-trained._ "Hey, kids." He nodded. 

 

Ms. Barton glanced at him expectantly, and he blinked again. 

 

After a moment, realization dawned. _Right. Verbal. Got it._ "Okay. How about we start with names?" A forest of little hands shot up in the air. Mr. Osborne pointed randomly at a blonde kid in the front row. 

 

"Chase Stevenson," the kid said gravely. 

 

He nodded. "Nice to meet you. Good name." He pointed again, this time to a brunette in the middle of the room.

 

"Katie Carter." 

 

The music teacher grinned. "What's it short for?" 

 

The little girl grinned. "Kaitlyn." 

 

"Pretty. And you?" He turned to another blonde. 

 

"Megan Develin." 

 

"Is your last name French? Or do you know?" 

 

Megan looked a little confused. "My name's in English." 

 

Mr. Osbourne laughed. "Right. Got it. Sorry." 

 

As he turned to the next little boy, Ms. Burton made her way out of the room. Regardless of his history as a heavy-metal musician, this young man seemed to connect well with the students. Plus, his hair had been a very natural shade of red, not the frightening blue-green it had been when he interviewed. After she closed the door behind her, she paused. Had that been nail polish on his fingers? 

 

*******

William was sitting in the front seat of the Explorer, staring at nothing. It used to be that his best thinking happened when he was in the shop. Smooth metal under his palms, grease under his nails - work for his hands that let his mind wander. Now, Xander's near-constant presence made the quiet solitude of the SUV a blessing. Not that he had anything against the bloke, he was nice as far as all that goes. But still, Will didn't get much chance to be alone anymore. 

 

So here he was, almost an hour early to get Megan, just so that he could sit in the parking lot and think. Time was, thinking had been on the list of 'Things to Avoid Doing'. Will snorted at the way life changes things. 

 

He was confused. Confusion was not something that he'd ever handled well. Courtney... what she was offering him was something that he hadn't had for ... well, for as long as _She_ 'd been out of the picture. Something he'd missed. It was more than just the way she smiled or the way she carried herself, it was the way she spoke to Megan. The way she wasn't afraid to get herself smeared with finger-paints, or mud, or drool from a sleeping four-year old. 

 

Will smiled at the memory that thought invoked, one of Michael passed out over his cousin's shoulder, leaving an every-growing damp spot on the back of her white shirt. He shook his head. 

 

When he thought about Courtney, he thought about laughter. Family. Belonging. Normalcy. All the things that everyone should want for their lives - and truthfully, they were things he did want. 

 

When he thought of ... _Her_... there was pain. Fear. Anger. Confusion. And more pain. Mostly, he tried not to think of _Her._ Even when their daughter grew taller and blonder every day. He shook his head, trying to dispel the cobwebs of the past.

 

 _Live in the present, Will. Not the past. The past is empty, it's gone, and it's not coming back. Right now, you have a chance for something better, maybe..._

 

Megan really liked Courtney, too. He nibbled his lower lip, not even realizing that he'd broken skin until he felt the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. Cursing quietly, he hunted for a napkin or a tissue to put to his mouth. Dabbing gently with a wadded handkerchief he'd found, he felt something dawn in his mind. 

 

_It's blood. It's always about the blood._

 

And then he called himself a fool for thinking this was a revelation. Blood came first. His daughter came first. Always had. Always would. He recalled the conversations held with Courtney during the past few days, and knew that everything would be alright. They were just laying a foundation, one that could go in any direction. Whatever happened in his friendship with her, they both had Meg's best interests at heart. 

 

 _Courtney..._ He smiled wryly to himself. _I haven't had that much fun at mini-golf since the end-of-the-tournament soccer party._

 

 

  
Chapter Eleven

 

April 23, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

Mr. Oz is really cool. He's the neatest teacher. Plus, he likes "The Wizard of Oz". He was telling us something about the movie that had to do with a guy named Pink, but it was kind of confusing. Anyway, Mr. Oz knows a lot of cool new songs, and he plays the guitar really well. He's really nice to talk with, and you know what? He paints his fingernails, like a girl. But he doesn't act like a girl. He said it was a musician thing. I think it's funny. I've never met a boy who liked nail polish before.   
Mr. Giles is going to watch me this afternoon. It's been a while since he came over here, instead of me playing at his house, or over at Chase's house. But something important is happening at Dad's garage, so he can't come get me from school. Oh well. I like Mr. Giles. Maybe he'll let me make peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwiches again. Those were good.  
Love,

 

Megan 

 

 

**********

 

 

**_November 1995_   
**

 

 

******Buffy smiled genially, while inside, she was anything but calm and collected. She wanted to be a part of Spike's life, part of all of his life, but still, she was getting chills.  
**

 

******Another pleasant nod as they passed yet another security guard.  
**

 

******Spike was uncharacteristically well behaved. His posture was excellent, his clothing was neater than usual, and he had taken out his piercings. In his arms, he carried a notebook, a pen tucked behind his ear.  
**

 

******She still didn't understand exactly what they were doing, charming their way into an in-depth tour of the governor's mansion. But they'd done the same thing over at the State House, played like a pair of kids writing a big paper about the governor, and gotten permission to go wherever the hell they wanted. Well, within reason. They hadn't actually seen the governor, but Spike didn't seem to be disturbed by that. In fact, he seemed rather relieved.  
**

 

******Buffy had a feeling that they were casing the joint, but she still didn't get why. After all, everyone stole from the State House - there wasn't anything there but souvenir pens and uncomfortable furniture. The mansion, on the other hand, was rather lushly appointed. But still, there were nicer places right down the street.  
**

 

******The intern who had been told to escort them gave her an inquring look, and Buffy belatedly realized that she'd been addressed. "I'm sorry," she smiled sheepishly, "I was just a little... distracted." On cue, she blushed.  
**

 

******The intern, a twenty-something young man with glasses and acne, merely grinned. "It's okay. The first time I was here, I couldn't stop staring out the windows. The gardens are unbelievable," he gushed.  
**

 

******"Right."  
**

 

******Trying not to touch anything, Spike looked around the large living room area. He couldn't help but notice the little glances Buffy kept shooting him, but still, he didn't want to address them. He didn't know what to tell her. On the one hand, lying to your girlfriend was usually a bad plan. On the other hand, if he told her the whole truth, she could wind up very dead. On the other other hand - the kind you had if you were some kind of circus freak - even if she said she understood, the actual death of the governor could quite possibly upset her to the point of betraying him. And jail was not a good thing.  
**

 

******He sighed quietly, wishing that for once, he could lead a quiet, normal life. One that featured picket fences and Buffy as his little housewife. Spike smiled at the image. _Right. Little wife, my ass. More like, queen of the roost._ Catching her eye, he winked at her.  
**

 

******Buffy smiled back, hesitantly. He was acting so odd lately, but then, maybe it was just her perception. Or the situation. _Or the thousand gallons of hormones that rush through your system at any given moment._ A small grimace. She still didn't know what to do. _Don't want to tell him... don't want to tell anyone. Maybe this thing will go away on its own._   
**

 

******Pretending to examine a bookshelf more closely, Buffy nibbled her lower lip. _Maybe,_ she brightened _Maybe I can help it along..._   
**

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

******Spike rubbed Buffy's back, and she sighed in her sleep, snuggling closer. For this moment, he could relax, and all of the week's stress could disappear. He was content just to watch her dream, watch her breathe. His hand skimmed down her side, making her cradle her stomach protectively in her sleep.  
**

 

******Three days since the last scouting of the governor's mansion, three days of avoiding the subject of what the hell they were doing. Curious, inquisitive Buffy had been strangely silent on the topic, seemingly content to let him take the lead. He didn't know whether or not he should be grateful or concerned by her seeming preoccupation.  
**

 

******His gaze softened as it skimmed over the shine of her hair, the curve of her cheek. Memorizing every nuance. _I know she's having a hard time of this, what with being away from her family for the first time. I know her mum's not a bad sort, even if the lady's head is a bit mixed when it comes to her man. Wish I could do more for her. Wish I had the dosh to get her away from here. Hell, I wish I could bring her to the apartments with me._ Spike shook his head, trying to clear away the beginnings of stress. Right now was happy time. The time where he didn't have to think, didn't have to plan and scheme and worry. Right now, he could just enjoy the feeling of warm Buffy in his arms.   
**

 

******Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over her shoulder. His eyes closed briefly, and he inhaled. No matter what was going on, she always smelled the same. Buffy-scent, mingled with the soft smell of Ivory soap. Sometimes there was a hint of some kind of fruity lotion, but he liked it best when she was just herself.  
**

 

******Still pressing his cheek to her shoulder, he let his eyes slide open. By chance, and the angle of his neck, he noticed something for the first time. Puzzled, he reached down to Buffy's wrist, turning her arm out.  
**

 

******Unbelieving, he looked at the skin of her arm. Skin that, for the past two days had been covered by long sleeves, regardless of the warmth. Skin that was only now revealed, he suspected, because he was supposed to have gone home tonight instead of deciding to crash at Faith's at the last moment.  
**

 

******Skin that bore track marks, obvious, and fresh.  
**

 

******The sound of giggling accompanied by the squeak of hinges broke his reverie. It also signalled Faith's return from wherever she'd run off to. Setting his jaw, Spike slipped out of the bed, pulled on his jeans, and stepped into the main room.  
**

 

******Against the doorframe, Faith was busily necking with a tall, dirty-blonde guy while unbuttoning his shirt. The guy's hands wandered all over her in a kind of frenzy.  
**

 

******"Faith." Spike's voice was the kind of frigid that blew straight out of Siberia on the longest night of the year.  
**

 

******The brunette didn't even pause, but the guy pulled back. "I thought," he gasped, "you said you didn't have a boyfriend."  
**

 

******"Nah, Spike's cool. S'my roommate's guy. Now c'mon, get naked!" she demanded in husky tones.  
**

 

******"No, I'm not cool. Faith, we have to talk. Now." Spike's demeanor did not warm by a single degree. Arms crossed stubbornly over his chest.  
**

 

******"Ignore him," Faith muttered, pulling her new toy firmly against her.  
**

 

******In response, Spike took three strides across the room. Jerking the guy away from the brunette, he punched him in the stomach. Then, he slammed his knee in the taller man's face and kicked him out the door. "She'll call you."  
**

 

******Jerking Faith inside, he slammed the door and re-folded his arms.  
**

 

******"Geez, what is your problem? God!" Faith moved towards the door, but Spike blocked her.  
**

 

******"You're right. I have a problem." His teeth gritted audibly. "We _both_ have a problem."   
**

 

******"Well, I don't know what crawled up your ass and died, but I was perfectly fine until you beat the shit out of my ride!" Faith jabbed her finger into Spike's shoulder, then gestured towards the door.  
**

 

******He shrugged. "So call him later."  
**

 

******Faith laughed. "Don't have his number. Hell, don't know his name."  
**

 

******Spike rolled his eyes. "Then no harm, no foul. Look," he grabbed her, "this is beside the soddin' point. You are going to tell me exactly what the hell you think you are doing with Buffy."  
**

 

******"What? Man, 's not that she isn't the looker, but I don't mess with the female types. Not unless there's a cock in the middle, you know what I mean?" She smirked, giving him a look.  
**

 

******Spike growled deep in his throat. He was hanging on to his temper by a thread, and her attitude was not boding for a peaceful resolution. _Angel'll be pissed if I kill her,_ a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered. _All right, I'll only hurt her. A lot,_ his instincts countered.   
**

 

******In a sudden, violent movement, he grabbed Faith by the arms and slammed her into a wall. "That's not what I'm bloody well talking about, and you know it, bitch!"  
**

 

******"Hey!" Faith protested. "I have no fucking clue what the hell your problem is! Just knock it off, already, and tell me what I did to piss you off!" If Spike hadn't been one of her oldest friends, she would've beaten his ass by now. But she'd never seen him act like this, and it had her kind of worried. "Spike?"  
**

 

******Something about her reaction penetrated through the red haze shrouding the blonde's mind. Coming back to himself, he released his friend. But still, his expression was not what one would call peaceful. "Why?" he snarled at her. "Why'd you do it?"  
**

 

******"Why did I do what?" Faith shot back, getting exasperated. It was one thing to get bitched out, it was quite another when she had no clue what the whole thing was about.  
**

 

******"Is that what you two've been doing when I'm not around? That why she's been so fucking weird these past few days? Introducing her to a whole new fucking brilliant world?"  
**

 

******"I swear, I'm not a lesbian?" Faith still had no idea what he was talking about.  
**

 

******"Not lesbianism," Spike ground out. "Junk."  
**

 

******The brunette's eyes widened. "What? Buffy's been doing heroin?"  
**

 

******"You trying to tell me you didn't know?" His eyes still held a dangerous glint, but he backed off a pace or two.  
**

 

******"I swear! I mean, I'm not here all that much anymore, and I know how you feel about the stuff..." the girl was genuinely bewildered.  
**

 

******Spike looked at her, long and hard. "But where else would she get it?"  
**

 

******Faith blinked twice. "Wait," she said slowly. "I've been missing my last few grams and a couple of syringes. I thought you'd found 'em and thrown 'em away. Like I said, I know how you feel about it. You telling me that wasn't you?"  
**

 

******All of a sudden, Spike sat down heavily. "Buffy," he whispered. Rough hands scrubbed over his face. "But why?"  
**

 

************************

_April 20, 2003_

 

Cheeks smeared with sticky remnants of a supremely unhealthy snack, Megan dug through yet another box in the cramped attic on Revello Drive. She didn't have very many dress-up clothes, but the boredom that had brought her upstairs was paying off. The former renters had left a ton of clothing behind. Some of it was ugly, some of it was pretty, and all of it was fun to play with. It was a testament to Giles' neatnik ways that all of the boxes were labeled with a last name. Maybe the landlord had tried to send back the belongings. In whatever case, Megan was having a ball. 

 

She giggled as she put yet another big, floppy hat on her head. The stuff in this box looked like the photos on Giles' albums. There were long, brown skirts and big, green blouses all sewn with beads. Megan spun around in front of a dusty mirror and laughed. It was like she was someone completely different - a secret person. 

 

Somehow, the fact that no one knew she was upstairs only made it better. She wasn't just playing dress-up, she was playing _potentially forbidden_ dress-up. Megan giggled again, tossing the hat back in the box, and digging for a string of plastic pearls. She could see the end sticking out, but it was caught on something. 

 

Tugging firmly, she frowned. It refused to come loose. She pulled again, then rummaged through the box to find what was keeping her from her prize. Knit tops and tie-dyed scarves flew through the air as she hunted for the elusive necklace. Finally, she found the problem - it was a pair of big, clunky roller skates. The pearls were wrapped around one the wheels. Blue eyes lighting up, she hunkered down to try to detangle the knot. 

 

Patiently, she worked the mass, trying to get it to come undone. It took a while, but eventually, she triumphed over the mess. 

 

"Ha!" she cried, holding the battered jewelry aloft. "Take that!" she delivered a swift kick to the box that had tried to keep her from her rightful spoils. 

 

"Ow!" Meg had forgotted that the clunky, old skates were heavy. Hopping on one foot, she fell backwards, trying not to hurt herself any further. Losing her balance, the little blonde tumbled onto a pile of clothing, knocking over a stack of boxes as she went. "Oof!" 

 

"Oh, man! Dad's going to be mad..." Struggling to get up, Meg propped herself up on her elbows. Then, she frowned. In front of her, revealed by her accidental rearrangement of the attic's contents, was a footlocker. Across the top, in big, bold letters, it read "DEVELIN". The girl cocked her head to the side, unconsciously imitating her father's familiar action. 

 

"Why does Dad have a box hiding up here?" she wondered aloud, and then her eyes lit up. "Maybe it's treasure, because he's really a prince from a far-off kingdom, who is only pretending to be a normal guy so that I can have a chance to grow up like a regular person!" She nibbled her lower lip. "Does this mean I can have a pony?" 

 

Scrambling out of the pile, she dropped the pearls to the floor. Megan the Treasure Hunter was off to find much more valuable booty. Stubborn, rusted latches tried to foil her, but the determined child would not be defeated so easily. Hinges squeaked as she lifted the heavy lid. A small gasp escaped her as she looked inside. 

 

Smooth, black material covered whatever the box's contents were. Almost reverently, Megan stroked her hand across it. Leather. Black leather. She always liked the way that leather felt, the way it was slippery and cold and warm, all at the same time. Growing bolder, she pulled on it, trying to see what it was. 

 

It took a little bit of effort, but she managed to get it out of the box and lay it out on the floor. It was a long coat. There were lots of pockets on it, and it was really, really long. It was longer than Megan was tall. She stared down in awe at the coat. It was so incredibly cool. 

 

Bursting into motion, she began to look through the pockets. Once, in a jacket pocket, she had found a dollar bill and three pennies. Maybe there would be something fun in this coat. In the first one, she discovered a wad of napkins. In the next, a really neat silver box. When Megan tried to open it, she realized it was a lighter, like the one Robbie's dad used to light his cigarettes. 

 

Now that she thought of it, the coat kind of smelled like cigarette smoke. But it also smelled like leather, and a little bit like... Dad. Wondering what it meant, Meg continued her hunt. The outside pockets didn't have much else - a book of matches, a scribbled phone number. The only weird thing was a roll of quarters inside of a sock. 

 

Making a little sound at the oddity, she turned to the inner pockets. In one, she unearthed a crumpled pack of cigarettes and yet another book of matches. When she, out of curiosity, flipped open the book, something fluttered to the ground. Squatting down to inspect it closer, Meg picked up the dried four-leaf clover. Grinning in surprise, she tucked it back into the matchbook and slipped it in her pocket. 

 

"Now I can be lucky, too!" 

 

There was only one pocket left, and Meg was eager to see what secrets it held. Slipping her hand inside, she felt an edge that felt like paper. Gently removing it, she paused. It was a worn picture, one of an older girl. She was beautiful, with long, flowing dark blonde hair. She wasn't really smiling, but her eyes were full of life. Megan's forehead scrunched up, as she tried to think who this girl could be. She didn't recognize her, but obviously, she used to be important to her dad. Flipping the photo over, she saw one word inscribed across the back. 

 

"Buffy." 

 

The name sounded somehow familiar. Shrugging, Meg stuck the picture back in the pocket, and gathered the coat up in her arms. 

 

 _Maybe Dad will tell me._

 

 

  
Chapter Twelve **  
**

**_Late November_ **

**The platinum-haired sixteen-year-old was barely paying attention to Angel's extended tirade. Time was swiftly running against the gang, and against Connor. The next night would be two weeks to the day from when Lilah Morgan had delivered her ultimatum. Of course, the dark, brooding patriarch was tearing his elaborately-gelled hair out by the roots.  
**

 

 

******_Funny. I never noticed gray hair before... Hell, the poof is only, what? Thirty? Huh. Still, almost twice my age._ Spike slouched further against the couch cushions, staring at the man who had been like a father to him for the past decade.   
**

 

******"Tomorrow morning, Wilson is holding a press conference at the mansion. It's my last chance," Angel muttered tersely. "I can get in, but how to get back out is the question... Still having problems with how to kill the bastard, and not get caught." His entire body was trembling with frustration.  
**

 

******"Peaches-"  
**

 

******A deadly glare cut off Spike's words. He changed his approach. "Angel."  
**

 

******"What?" The older man snapped impatiently.  
**

 

******"I'll take care of it," the teen replied evenly.  
**

 

******"You know a way out?" he seized on the offering with something akin to desperation.  
**

 

******"Well, yeah, for me." Spike waited for the meaning of his words to sink in.  
**

 

******"No," Angel responded flatly. "Out of the question."  
**

 

******"Look, Angel, I can do this. I can make it neat and quiet and disappear without anyone knowing what happened."  
**

 

******"Dru would-"  
**

 

******"Sod her, mate. If it was any of the others who had a plan, an in, and an out, you'd go for it." Spike shook his head. "Years now, you've told me that I'm no different from any other bloke under your command. You telling me that was a lie?"  
**

 

******Angel gritted his teeth, torn. On the one hand, his entire organization was based on fair play - at least, on the inside. Spike had earned his way up through the ranks, no advantages over any other street kid. But this would be his first kill. _Damn Faith._  
**

 

******The brunette had once been the best assassin in the city, until the partying and the drug use had started to take its toll. Now, he didn't trust her with the job.  
**

 

******"Tell Gunn. He'll go," Angel stated. When it came down to it, he'd rather have a man at his back that would die for him. Better yet, a man that had killed for him already.  
**

 

******Spike shook his head. "I did the grunt work on this, and you know it." _And it's my own bloody mess... I got Connor into this; I'll soddin' well get him out._   
**

 

******Another silence stretched between the two men.  
**

 

******Finally, reluctantly, Angel relented. "You sure you can do this?"  
**

 

******In place of his usual cocky bullshit, Spike just nodded. "Yeah."  
**

 

******"Tomorrow."  
**

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

******Buffy was watching him. Watching him slowly, meticulously examining the barrel, scope, and mechanisms of a high-performance rifle. Confidently, he cleaned and oiled the gun, ignoring her entirely. While she had known, intellectually, that he was planning to kill someone with it, when he brought it to the apartment a few days ago, it was quite another matter to see the way he was acting. Plotting - to end a man's life.  
**

 

******Buffy was watching him. Spike could feel her eyes on him as he snapped the last modification onto the army surplus weapon. He wondered what she was thinking, was feeling. After all, if it hadn't been for her, he wouldn't be able to do this. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. But at the same time, he knew that this had to be done. She had to realize the truth of his life: that if it wasn't Governor Wilson, it would be some punk dealer who was too far into debt. Eventually, he would have blood on his hands. Whether or not she still loved him in the morning remained to be seen.  
**

 

******He grimaced, and Buffy wondered what was going through his mind. Did he regret what he was going to do? Did he know, or did he care, that the governor had a son who was just about their age, and a daughter who had just gotten married? _Does he care that he's about to make them orphans?_ She wished that she could get high. For once, it wasn't about trying to damage her body; it was about trying to escape her thoughts. She hadn't expected the relief, the release, that first time she had shot up. Buffy didn't hunger for the drug - three times does not an addict make. But she wanted, a little bit wistfully, to be able to forget. Spike used to do that for her, make her forget everything. But in this case, he was part of the problem.   
**

 

******She was drawing away from him. Spike knew it. When he touched her, she didn't respond. When he kissed her, the fire was missing. When he tried to make love to her, she pulled away. Maybe he shouldn't have been quite so angry with her over the heroin. _God knows, it's not like I haven't got my share of vices._ Since he was thinking of it, Spike paused to light a cigarette. _Maybe I should have tried harder to spend time with her. But my whole world is in bloody chaos. She's got to understand that..._   
**

 

******He was different. Somehow, he was a little bit colder than before. And it frightened her that she didn't care. Spike was still the same man she'd fallen in love with. And that was why it was killing her to stay out of reach. She didn't want to distract him. And carelessly letting him find out she was pregnant would be distracting. When he'd found out about the drugs, he'd completely wigged. On the outside, she fed him some lie about stress, and wanting to escape. When he bought it, she didn't know whether to be relieved or angry. Relieved, because her secret was still safe. Angry, because he didn't try harder, look further, and find out what was really bothering her.  
**

 

******There was something wrong with Buffy. Spike knew that, too. He hadn't really been satisfied with her excuses for using, but he'd let it slide. Now, she was apparently experimenting with bulimia - either that or she was sick and didn't want to tell him. God knew that she couldn't eat three bites without upchucking. _If she's going bulimic, well, it's pretty soddin' ineffective. Don't think she's lost an ounce. Not that she looks fat, or anything,_ he hastily told himself. _Really. She's still... beautiful._** **For just an instant their eyes met, and a crackle of electricity seemed to flow through the air. Then Buffy's stomach began to churn, and she looked away. _God, I wish I knew what to do..._   
**

 

******_See, mate?_ He told himself harshly. _She's angry. Can't even look at you._ Had she really realized before, what his organization did? Did she still see the smart-assed jerk who teased her over her clothing? Or did she see a soulless killer, a monster, a thing. A murderer with weapon in hand. Setting his jaw, Spike steeled himself. Checking to make sure the rifle was unloaded, he rose and carried it over to the dresser, laying it on top. A box of rounds was placed next to it. _If that's what she sees when she looks at me... Well, she has to know. Has to learn. Because this is what I do, this is who I am. I can't, I won't change. Not for anyone. Not even for her._  
**

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The glowing red letters on the digital clock read "4:10 AM" when the door to the apartment burst open. Spike, dozing on the couch, jolted awake, his hand going for his handgun.

 

******"Get your stuff, get your girl. Now," the shadowy figure ordered.  
**

 

******The sudden adrenaline coursing through Spike's body cleared the cobwebs from his sleep-fogged mind. "Angel?" he murmured.  
**

 

******Searching the pockets of his black coat, the older man paced into the living room. "C'mon, Spike. Go wake her up."  
**

 

******Baffled, the teen went into the bedroom to shake his girlfriend awake. "Buffy," he whispered. "Wake up."  
**

 

******"Hm?" she groaned, and peeled open one eye. "What?"  
**

 

******"Get up. Get dressed." Turning, he went back to see what was going on. As he moved through the doorway, something came flying at him. Reflexively, he caught the missile, and it jingled. Keys.  
**

 

******"I don't have much cash on me, and for that I'm sorry. Maybe you can shake down Willie - no, that would be a bad move." Angel started muttering to himself.  
**

 

******"Peaches, what the bloody hell is going on?" Tucking the keys in his duster pocket, Spike stood, confused.  
**

 

******"Faith was arrested half an hour ago. She used her phone call to tell me to get you the hell out of Dodge."  
**

 

******"What?" Spike gaped.  
**

 

******Angel's jaw clenched. "Apparently," he bit out, "she was caught leaving the vicinity of Wilson's."  
**

 

******"So, trespassing?" The teen was still confused.  
**

 

******"Would've been, except that not five minutes before, Mrs. Gayle Wilson rolled over and found her husband with his throat cut out."  
**

 

******"Dammit, I had it handled!" Spike exploded. "She knew that! Why did she do it?"  
**

 

******Angel glared. "I don't know. It's not something you really confide while you're on a police line. All she said what that you shouldn't've beaten the shit out of her fucktoy, because he remembers you."  
**

 

******"What?" His brain scrambled to recall the reference. And then he remembered. "Shit."  
**

 

******"Take the Desoto, I got new plates on it. Stay low-key, pay cash everywhere, and for God's sake, don't get pulled over. Get the fuck out of town and don't call for at least a month. I'll fill you in then." Angel handed over a fistful of bills. "It's not much, but it's short notice. You'll have to make do."  
**

 

******Spike nodded once, folding the money and slipping it into an inner pocket. "Could you-?" He glanced meaningfully over at the rifle.  
**

 

******Angel nodded back, then looked at the clock. It was almost four-thirty. "Get a move on, child."  
**

 

******A quick grin was flashed, then Spike ducked back into the bedroom to throw some clothing into a bag. He grabbed some of Buffy's things as well, stuffing them down. Glancing over to the bed, he saw that she'd fallen back asleep. With a snort, he slung the bag over his shoulder. A quick trip to the bathroom got him Faith's emergency cash, and he was ready to go. Yanking back the blankets, he scooped Buffy up in his arms.  
**

 

******"Don't know if you'd planned on a road trip, love, but we're leaving." Spike breezed out the front door, made it down the stairs, and found Angel's car. Tucking his girlfriend into the back seat, he then started the engine and headed towards the freeway.  
**

 

******A sign flashed past. _Sacramento, 618 miles_ **

 

**********

 

 _April 20, 2003_

 

Walking in the door from work, William had to grab the counter to keep from falling over. "Megan, where did you get that?" He stared at his daughter, draped in black leather that trailed out behind her, the sleeves nearly dragging on the ground. He knew perfectly well where she had gotten it, knew the old trunk in the back of the attic, his own private altar to the past. 

 

"It was up with all these neat dress-up clothes," she answered blithely, shaking her arm to get her hand out of a sleeve.

 

Will groaned quietly. Dress-up. He should've thought of that, should have hidden his things better. He could only hope that she hadn't found-

 

"Daddy, who's this lady? She's pretty." 

 

_Damn._

 

He was stuck. He was torn. He had no idea what to tell her. A little voice popped up inside of his head. _Why don't you tell her the truth? She deserves to know..._ Will frowned. Why did the voice sound like Courtney?

 

"Daddy?"

 

"Nibblet, why don't you go sit down on the couch, and I'll be there in a second. I want to get a snack, and then I'll tell you all about her," he managed, a calm expression on his face.

 

"Okay!" Meg chirped, and then ran off to the den. 

 

Will turned, rummaging through the cabinets. He sighed in relief when he came up with a small bottle of whisky. _Not much, but it'll do._

 

Having slammed back a shot to steady his nerves, he made his way into the den. His stomach was in knots. He still wasn't sure what - and how much - to tell his daughter. 

 

"So who is she?" Meg asked, running her finger down the photograph. 

 

"She's your mum." He almost cursed as the words just slipped out of his mouth.

 

Blue eyes widened. "She is?" A loud squeal ripped through the room, followed by a flurry of questions. "What's her name? What's she like? Where is she?" 

 

Will swallowed hard. "Well, pet. Her name's Buffy Anne Summers. Don't really know where she is." _How do I explain to her what happened, when it doesn't even make sense to me?_

 

Megan pulled the duster closer around her. "Buffy Anne. That's pretty. But wait, why isn't she Buffy Anne Develin, like us?"

 

His hands twitched. "She and I weren't married, love." 

 

The little blonde looked vaguely confused. "But I thought you said that you had to be married to have babies." 

 

Caught. Frozen like a deer in the headlights. 

 

"Uh, do you remember when I explained all of that to you, Nibblet?" Will began, his ears starting to pink. 

 

"Do you mean the thing about the eggs and the tadpoles and stuff?" Megan cocked her head to the side. 

 

"Uh, right. Well, you don't _have_ to be husband and wife to do that stuff, but it's better when they are." _Hypocrite!_

 

"Wow." Megan blinked. "You must've really wanted a baby if you did THAT when you weren't married." She smiled, delighted. "I can't wait to show everyone at school!" 

 

Will smiled back, his heart breaking inside. "Yeah."

 

 

 

  
Chapter Thirteen

 

April 24, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

I have a mom! Well, I knew that already, but now I know what she looks like! She's the prettiest mom ever. Her name's Buffy, and she's just as old as Daddy. I still don't know very much about her, but Daddy told me that she used to sleep in the big black coat. It used to be his coat, back when he was a teenager, he said. But now it's mine, because I won't let him have it back. I like it. I asked if I could wear it to school, but he said I might trip and fall. So I can't wear it to school, but I can wear it all the rest of the time. It's like I'm almost close to her. Like a big, Mommy-hug.   
I hope I find her some day. I want to show her how big I've gotten, and all the things I can do. She hasn't seen me since I was a baby. Babies are cute, but they can't do very much. I can do a lot of stuff. But do you know what I want to do? I want to blow out my birthday candles with her sitting next to me.   
Love,

 

Megan 

 

 

**********

 

 

**_Late January, 1996_   
**

 

 

******Buffy felt like she would never be clean again. Her skin positively itched, her hair felt like something was crawling in it, and she'd been wearing the same clothing for two days. At least her mouth felt okay - one thing they always managed was to find a place to brush their teeth.  
**

 

******Because of this, the idea of a hot shower was positively ecstasy.  
**

 

******She started to bounce on her toes as she watched Spike hand over the money to the clerk. This might be one of the cheapest, run-down motels in Sacramento, but it would have a bed, clean sheets, and hot running water. Buffy couldn't wait.  
**

 

******Spike smiled to himself as he accepted the dull silver key from the mousy gentleman behind the desk. He'd lucked out big-time, stealing a wallet that had almost two hundred dollars in it. For the first time in weeks, he and Buffy would be sleeping with a roof over their heads, enjoying a hot shower and a good meal. He shot a glance over her, grinning to see her bounce like a little child on Christmas morning. At that thought, he sobered. _She deserves so much better than this... Bloody hell, it's all I can do to get her a place to sleep, and it's in a rat-hole like this. My Buffy should be in a penthouse, eating bon-bons and ordering room service._ His jaw tightened.   
**

 

******Buffy remained oblivious to his change in mood. Holding out her hand for the key, she twined her arm around his waist. "C'mon, c'mon! I can hear the shower calling my name..."  
**

 

******Summoning a smirk, he gave her a wink. "Thought I was the only one who got to call your name, pet." His tongue made a lascivious twirl.  
**

 

******Buffy mock-scowled at him. "Shower first. Ugh, I'm so filthy. And for that matter, so're you: dirty, filthy, gross." She started looking for room numbers.  
**

 

******The smirk faltered as she walked away, and Spike chewed his lower lip. _She's figuring it out... I'm no good for her. 'm just a street-rat guttersnipe with no future. Pro'lly regretting she ever met me, much less ran away with me. Pretty soon she'll be asking me for bus fare, and getting herself back home..._   
**

 

******By this time, Buffy had found the right room, had torn open the door, and was headed single-mindedly towards the tiny bathroom.  
**

 

******Spike watched her go, then went out to the Desoto to get their bags. They could wash their things in the tub, and it was going to be sunny for the next few days. He'd paid up for three nights, might as well take advantage.  
**

 

******She sighed deeply, happily, as she slid under the near-scalding water. _Bliss..._ Finally out of her sweaty clothing. Finally rinsing scum and dirt off her body. Finally able to stop feeling self-conscious. As she unwrapped the tiny bar of complimentary soap, she let a hand glide over her belly. _Four months along, and I'm still barely showing._ Perhaps it was a side affect not eating very well, perhaps it was caused by her occasional attempts to abort the thing. Either way, it made hiding her condition from Spike a lot less stressful.   
**

 

******Ruthlessly, she scrubbed her skin, trying to rid herself of every taint, every drop of sweat, every trace of dirt, musk, and filth. If only everything else washed away so easily.  
**

 

******A cool draft of air startled her, and she turned to see Spike walk into the bathroom. Buffy felt her breath catch and her pulse accelerate. He was naked.  
**

 

******It had been so long for them... She found herself pulling the curtain open in invitation, before realizing something. When she was dressed, the roundness of her belly was practically invisible. But if they were naked, skin to skin... Buffy swallowed hard. There was no way he wouldn't figure it out. But to grab a towel and run would just arouse more suspicion.  
**

 

******Spike slipped silently into the cramped stall. A small, satisfied smile graced his lips. It was amazing how he could look so confident, and feel so weak at the same time. Helpless. Worthless. Useless. Like he was a weight that had dragged an angel from the heavens, and could do nothing to protect her now that she was damned to Earth.  
**

 

******Without a word, he reached for the soap, beginning to lather himself up. Maybe if he was clean on the outside, he wouldn't feel so dirty inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Buffy standing there. Her hands were clutched in front of her, her posture startled, cornered, afraid.  
**

 

******Spike felt like the biggest fool in the world. "I... 'm sorry pet, shouldn't've barged in. Just... couldn't wait, you know?" With a surprisingly steady hand, he flipped his wet, overgrown hair out of his eyes.  
**

 

******Suddenly, his arms were full of wet, soapy Buffy. She flung herself at him, kissing his face, his neck, his mouth with a reckless abandon he hadn't seen in her for ages. His skin tingled with her proximity, and he responded with equal passion, equal fervor.  
**

 

******Equal desperation.  
**

 

******_Oh, god, how can he want me when I'm fat and pregnant?  
_ **

 

******_How can she stand to touch me when I've brought her down so low?  
_ **

 

******Fast and needy, they clutched one another, joining their bodies in a graceless frenzy. Nails scratched and tore at skin, teeth clawed, hands left bruises and welts. It was almost as if they believed that by the joining of their bodies, they could regain the mental and emotional closeness they had once shared. That a passionate coupling would bridge the distance that had been growing between them.  
**

 

******That everything would disappear, except for the touch and smell and taste of a lover.  
**

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

******Spike sprawled naked and exhausted across the twin bed. The rough fabric of the comforter was irritating his back, but he couldn't summon the energy to move. He was physically sated - drained, even. Yet he still felt uneasy. Buffy was hiding something. Trying to reassure himself, he ran a hand over her damp hair.  
**

 

******She sighed, nestling her head against his chest. The reassuring beat of his heart was lulling her to sleep, so she tugged the oversized t-shirt closer around her body. It was the cleanest thing she owned at the moment.  
**

 

******_After all of that complaining about being dirty, why did she put on that shirt? It smells..._ Spike's nose twitched, and his tired mind reminded him again that she was acting more bizarre than usual.   
**

 

******Buffy licked her lips, wishing that she could stop hiding, stop pretending. But how would he react to it, to the fact that she would get round and pudgy, and spawn a slimy, bloody mess?  
**

 

******Finding a sudden burst of adrenaline, Spike rolled over, pinning Buffy to the bed. Her eyes fluttered shut.  
**

 

******"Again?" she gasped, a little smile teasing her lips as she tried to forget all of her worries and lose herself in his flesh.  
**

 

******"No," he murmured. Spike shook his head, and reached for the hem of her shirt. Buffy grabbed his wrist.  
**

 

******"Don't," she pleaded.  
**

 

******Gaze hardening, he ignored her request. A swift pull dragged the garment up and over her head. Leaning down, he began to closely inspect her nude form as she wiggled and tried to cover herself.  
**

 

******"Please, Spike, don't..."  
**

 

******In exasperation, he let her go. "Why? Why are you lying to me? What are you hiding? Do you hate me so much that you can't even stand to feel me against you?"  
**

 

******Buffy stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes. "Spike, no... I can't hate you, I don't..." She started to curl up into a ball. "Just... don't look at me. Please."  
**

 

******"Why?" he snarled, seizing her by the shoulders and forcing her to face him. "Why can't I see you?"  
**

 

******At this point, she began to sob, incoherent phrases tumbling from her mouth. He frowned, his entire being aching for having caused her such distress. He caught a word, here and there.  
**

 

******"...fat..."  
**

 

******"...ugly..."  
**

 

******"...dirty..."  
**

 

******"...how could you..."  
**

 

******"...stop looking at me..."  
**

 

******He couldn't take it anymore. Brutally, his mouth fastened over hers, and he kissed her with a savage passion. And his own babbling began soon after.  
**

 

******"...beautiful..."  
**

 

******"...wonderful..."  
**

 

******"...love you..."  
**

 

******"...how could you think..."  
**

 

******Buffy was dazed at what she was hearing. She wanted to believe, so badly. But she knew - she KNEW - that once he found out, it would be a different story. Nevertheless, her treacherous mouth opened and began to spill her secrets.  
**

 

******"Spike, I'm pregnant... god, I don't want it, but I don't know what to do..."  
**

 

******"You... what?"  
**

 

************

 

 

_April 28, 2003_

 

Buffy Summers stared into her shot glass as she sat on the tall bar stool and waited for her boyfriend, Riley Finn, to show up. He was running late, as usual, but it wasn't a big deal. He probably got held up on base, some kind of glitch in routine. It was kind of funny, breaks in routine _were_ routine. Or at least, a regular occurrence. 

 

She looked up at the bartender and signaled for a refill. She never used to be able to handle vodka shots. _Guess aging is good for something._

 

A flat note reached her ears, causing Buffy to grimace. Why Riley loved this karaoke bar so much, she had no idea. But at least the owner was nice, even if he was always recommending the Sea Breeze, instead of her straight shots. The woman on the corner stage was massacring "My Heart Will Go On." What was it with Celine Dione and karaoke? Seemed like everyone and their brother had either a _Titanic_ obsession, or a yen for singing "All By Myself." Luckily, this wannabe was almost done with her set. 

 

"Near, far, wherever you are, you know that this little lady's got it going on! Let's give it up for Kimberly!" The karaoke host had taken the microphone, making Buffy sigh in relief. Her reprieve, however, was short lived. "Now, we have Kevin, or should I say, Tim McGraw!"

 

Buffy groaned out loud and thunked her head against the bar top. Country. _I hate country. Why doesn't anyone rock out some Goo Goo Dolls, or Train? Or at least some Black Sabbath... I have got to get Riley to go to cooler hangouts._ Ignoring the vocalist, who was actually on key, she raised her head high enough to knock back her shot.

 

"Another, Ms. Summers?" Ramone, the bartender, asked.

 

"Make it whiskey sour. Double." She rubbed her forehead, waiting on her drinks, and hoping Riley would get there soon. She was just so tired of all of this. Almost against her will, she found herself paying attention to the man onstage. His voice was pretty damn good, for once. But as soon as she started listening, the lyrics he sang caught her like a sucker punch, and knocked the breath from her body. 

_...I was out of a job and she was in school,_ _Life was fast and the world was cruel,_ _We were young and wild, we decided not to have a child_ _So we did what we did and we tried to forget_ _And we swore up and down,_ _There would be no regrets in the morning light,_ _But on the way home that night...  
_

 

 

_On the back of that red rag top_ _She said please don�t stop_ _Loving me._

 

A hand brushing her shoulder made Buffy spill her drink. 

 

"Oh, sorry sweetie. Have you been waiting long?" Captain Riley Finn of the United States Army sat down at the seat next to her. He was still wearing his uniform. After dropping a peck on her cheek, he let his eyes flicker over at Ramone. 

 

The bartender noticed his glance, and unobtrusively signaled how many shots she'd already had. 

 

The number was disturbing to him. _I wish she would just let me in..._ "Buffy?" Riley was startled to see tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at him. 

 

"Can we go home, please? I don't feel so well... I... I just want to get out of here, okay?" Her voice cracked on the last syllable.

 

His brow furrowed. "Sure, sweetie. Just let me get the tab." He pulled out his walled and left an appropriate amount of bills on the bar, then helped his girlfriend to her feet. "Come on. Let's get you home." 

 

**********

Will was whistling to himself as he entered the garage. He nodded a hello to Xander, and walked over to the work roster to see what needed doing. As he went, the twang of a steel guitar registered in his conscious mind. "Xander?"

 

"Yeah, boss-man?" The darker man looked up from the engine pieces he was reassembling. 

 

"Are we listening to country music? In my garage?" Will looked incredulous. 

 

Xander looked sheepish. "Yeah... sometimes, I just get this crazy urge... you don't mind, do you?" 

 

Will made a face. "I'll try to put up with it for a while. But then we're putting the Blitz back on." Receiving a nod of assent, he turned back towards the roster and flipped idly through the pages. Xander was turning up the volume. 

 

_We took one more trip around the sun,_ _But it was all make believe in the end,_ _No I can�t say where she is today,_ _I can�t remember who I was back then.  
_

 

 

_Well you do what you do and you pay for your sins,_ _And there�s no such thing as what might have been_ _That�s a waste of time, drive you outta� your mind._ _I was stopped at a red light just yesterday,_ _Beside a young girl in a cabriolet and her eyes were green,_ _And I was in an old scene  
_

 

_I was back in that red rag top_ _On the day she stopped_ _Loving me...  
_

 

It was only when the page in front of him started to blur that Will realized his eyes were filling with tears. Dropping the sheaf of papers, he turned and hurried into his office and slammed the door. _Shit. I am not crying over sodding Tim McGraw._

 

 

 

  


**Note: Red Rag Top isn't my property. And I'm so, so sorry for using country song lyrics in my fic. But... they play this song ALL THE TIME at my place of business, and it makes me think of Spike and Buffy. (Well, this incarnation of them, anyway.) 

 

  


  
Chapter Fourteen

 

April 30, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

I'm so excited I can hardly sleep. Tomorrow, I get to go and have my pictures taken like a model in magazines. Well, maybe not that good, but it's still cooler than just regular picture taking. See, every spring Chase and Michael's mom likes to go get portraits done of them. That just means fancy pictures. And she asked me if I wanted to come to, and get some of me! She said it would be an early birthday present, since my birthday isn't for another six weeks. So we're getting up early in the morning and going to the big mall downtown. That's where the big studio is. And there'll be people to dress me up, and put makeup on and everything. I can't wait. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight.  
Love,

 

Megan 

 

 

**********

 

 

**_April 1996_   
**

 

 

******Spike swore softly, slamming down the receiver of the payphone. His short, terse conversation with Angel had done nothing to improve his already foul mood. No, it wasn't safe in L.A. yet. No, the police hadn't finished ruling out the possibility of accomplices.  
**

 

******No, Faith wasn't going to get a light sentence, by any means.  
**

 

******A grimace crossed his face at the thought of the brunette. Nineteen was a little young to be staring down the barrel of life without parole. _Another few years, mate, and that'll be you._ Spike dismissed the nagging little voice with an air of annoyance. He was smarter than that. Slicker. Besides, what was he good for, other than a life of crime?   
**

 

******For the thousandth time, he cursed the bizarre twist of fate that had caused the brunette to have the perfect opportunity for the murder that ended her career? Who would've guessed that Governor Wilson had an eighteen-year-old son who liked to slum?  
**

 

******How could the dumbass son know that when he invited a sexy girl to bang him at the governor's mansion, she'd slit his father's throat while the family was sleeping?  
**

 

******Irritated by his train of thought, Spike's gaze turned to Buffy. She was leaning against the hood of the DeSoto, discomfort written across her very posture. Her lean frame was offset by her swollen belly and rounded face. He'd always heard that pregnant women glowed. Well, Buffy didn't. If anything, she radiated despair. She hated the betrayal of her own body, and it was evident in her every move. The girl looked positively ill. Her limbs were stick-thin, her eyes hollow and sullen. Even her hair lacked its usual shine.  
**

 

******_I failed her again,_ Spike berated himself. _Can't do anything for her, not even help her get rid of something that she hates._   
**

 

******"Any luck?" She cocked her head, a glimmer of hope lighting her otherwise lifeless gaze.  
**

 

******The blonde teen shook his head. "Not today. Though it should be winding up soon. Maybe another couple of weeks." He let loose a heavy sigh.  
**

 

******"God, what is up with these fantastically long trials? It's been like, what, six months? Honestly, you think they'd just want it to be over." Buffy scowled her indignation at the slow-turning wheels of justice as she tugged down the hem of her t-shirt. _But why do I even want to go home? It's not like there's anything there for me. Not while I'm carrying this... thing._   
**

 

******Spike's jaw tightened at her expression of disgust. He could feel her eyes boring into him, adding substance to the paranoid phantoms in his head. A chill crept down his spine. He hated himself in moments like this. Hated himself for the things that he couldn't do. Hated himself for having destroyed someone so beautiful. Hated himself for being weak. Because if he'd had the chance to do it all over again, he knew that he couldn't have chosen differently if he'd tried. It just wasn't in him.  
**

 

******Buffy's mind was still turning in little obsessive circles. For the past six months, she'd thought of almost nothing but this. The litany was as worn as her nerves, at this point. _A professional abortion is out the question, they'll want some health information, my name, or at least more money than we can spare. I can't go to one of those back-alley quacks with a coat hanger - it's too dangerous, and again, we don't have the money. I've tried drugs, bulimia, hitting my stomach, catching all sorts of shitty colds and flus, and all it wound up doing was making me more miserable._ She fought down the rising panic and frustration she felt. _I'm too young to be tied down like this... I can't be a mother. Not like this. Not now._  
**

 

********

 

 

_April 30, 2003_

 

"Buffy Summers, how may I help you?" she recited, in a cool, professional tone. "Yes, Mrs. Ortega. That's correct. Could you describe the incident?" Reaching for her pen, the petite social worker began to jot down notes. 

 

She cringed inwardly. How some of these people could look at themselves in the mirror was beyond her understanding. Every other day, calling with a new complaint, trying to return foster children as if they were sweaters that didn't quite fit. 

 

"Alright, ma'am. I'll get right on it... you, too." The receiver settled into place with a soft click, and Buffy turned to add young Joseph Bunger's name back to the list of 'problem cases'. It made her want to drink. She hated it, hated when families didn't work out after she'd spent weeks and weeks getting them placed together. She'd really thought Joey would fit well with the Ortegas - they had a son just about his age, and a handful of older children as well. 

 

"Guess it just wasn't meant to be," she murmured, despising herself for being so useless when a boy was about to be torn from a home yet again. Buffy had a Master's in Social Psychology, and she still couldn't keep it together. 

 

She had a degree from a reputable university, a steady job, a nice apartment not too far from her office, a reliable, dependable boyfriend... a toned body, blonde hair, and a tan. According to the rest of the world, Buffy should've been one of the happiest, perkiest people in L.A. Instead, she was a state employee who worked sixty hour weeks, drank coffee from 6 am until 6 pm, and then downed booze until she passed out at night. No wonder she had an ulcer at twenty-three. 

 

Wistfully, she wished she was back in bed. Back asleep, she amended to herself. If she was just in bed, then Riley... She sighed.

 

Not that she didn't love him, because she did. But sometimes, he just wouldn't leave her alone. Wanting to talk, wanting to cuddle, wanting to connect on some metaphysical level. Oh, Buffy knew that it was just because he was the sweetest, most caring, considerate man on the planet. But most mornings, she just wanted to sleep. When problems came up, she didn't want to talk them out - she got enough of that at work. What Buffy wanted, when something went wrong, was to ignore the problem. It would go away on its own. 

 

Really. 

 

********

 

 

Courtney Stevenson sat on the back porch of her cousin's house, arms crossed over her knees as she swished her beer around in its bottle. She didn't drink often, but for some reason, it seemed like a good night for a Heineken. The sky was almost black - it was, after all, nearing midnight. She was the only one awake in the house. It almost felt like she was the only one awake in the world. 

 

She took a sip of her drink, listening to the lapping of the water in the pool. She didn't get California, not really. 

 

_I mean, these people should be the happiest on earth. Great weather, year-round beaches, fabulous landscape, all sorts of attractions, the greatest shopping on the planet... But Connecticut just feels more real. Like Sunnydale is some little dreamland fantasy that couldn't possibly exist in the normal world.  
_

 

 

_Fantasy. William.  
_

 

 

Courtney grinned a little to herself, touching her lips softly. 

 

_The things I wouldn't do to that man. He's just... so uptight. I bet he could be a wild man, though. But he's so proper. So in control of himself.  
_

 

She shrugged, tilting her head to look up at the overcast sky. A chill breeze raised goosebumps along her arms, and she shivered. Still, Courtney continued to look up, trying to catch a glimpse of a star. 

 

It felt like hours passed, but it could have only been a few moments. A stubborn glint peeked out from between two moving clouds, shining almost defiantly. Courtney laughed aloud. 

 

"Star light, star bright..." she trailed off, her grin fading. 

 

 _We used to do that almost every night._

 

She sighed, starting to take another swallow. Just when the bottle reached her lips, Courtney paused. Instead of drinking, she poured the rest of the beer out onto the ground and sighed. 

 

"How can I be thinking about William, when I still miss Frank so much?"

 

 

  
Chapter Fifteen

 

May 1, 2003

Dear Diary,

 

Today was so much fun! I got to try on all these clothes, and wear makeup and everything. This lady, her name was Sally, she did my hair all pretty and painted my face like a real grown up. Chase and Michael and I took soooo many pictures, but it was all fun. We did scary monster outfits, even though it wasn't Halloween, and all sorts of dress up outfits, and church clothes, and play clothes... it took forEVER. But it was so much fun, I can't wait to do it again. Although, I wish that I had more friends who were girls. I mean, Chase is cool and all, but he didn't like the makeup. Makeup is cool. Boys just don't understand that.   
I bet my mom would let me wear her makeup sometimes, let me try on her lipstick and stuff. But just to play around the house, I bet. Dad says I'm too young for makeup, except for special things and dress up. I think he's probably right.   
Love,

 

Megan 

 

 

**********

 

 

**_Early June, 1996_   
**

 

 

******Buffy grimaced again, as yet another weird cramp gripped her abdomen. She didn't know what was going on with her stomach today.  
**

 

******_Maybe it was all that Chinese food I had last night..._   
**

 

******True, she had rather gorged herself at the cheap, greasy restaurant. Her guts had been twisting all morning long. The thought that it might not be indigestion didn't even cross her mind.  
**

 

******Her hands tightened on her knees as she concentrated on the scenery rolling by the car window, and not on her discomfort. She took deep breaths. It was working.  
**

 

******Spike noticed her movement out of the corner of his eye, but he was too intent on driving to say anything. At this moment, he was nothing if not conflicted. Finally, they were on their way back to L.A. Finally, they would have reliable food and shelter. Finally, they could get back to where they belonged.  
**

 

******_Where YOU belong, mate. Not her. Never her._   
**

 

******He scowled, trying to rid himself of the obnoxiously persistent voice that had been riding him like a demon for the past months. Now that they were only twenty minutes out from L.A., the little voice was louder than ever.  
**

 

******At least Angel had agreed to let them stay at the apartments. Having been gone for almost a year, Spike knew that most of his personal contacts had probably dried up. All he had left was family.  
**

 

******Family, and a beautiful blonde ... _who hates you,_ the voice whispered. He could almost hear its evil little laugh.   
**

 

******Spike's jaw clenched.  
**

 

******Buffy's stomach rippled once again, accompanied by a kick from the thing inside her. She shifted, and it kicked again, turning an uncomfortable somersault.  
**

 

******"God, just shut up!" she burst out.  
**

 

******Her boyfriend, who had just been about to ask her a question, snapped his mouth shut.  
**

 

******_Hates you, hates you, hates you... look what you've done to her. Monster.  
_ **

 

******"Stop the car. I want to lie down," Buffy demanded, becoming increasingly irritated at her body's uncooperativeness.  
**

 

******Ever obliging, Spike pulled over, helping his pregnant girlfriend get situated in the back seat. "You all right, luv?" he murmured, as he settled back in behind the wheel.  
**

 

******"Fine," she snapped tersely. _Why the hell do I wind up with fucking demon spawn doing gymnastics in my guts every time I have a good dinner! God! Maybe laying still will make the little shit be still._   
**

 

******If anything, the pain only started getting worse.  
**

 

******Night was falling on the big city as Spike pulled into town. The radio played Sex Pistols, neon lights began to flicker on, and cars began to use their headlights. He was almost a mile away from Angel's headquarters when a scream made him slam on the brakes.  
**

 

******"SPIKE!!!!" Buffy's cry could've shattered the windshield.  
**

 

******Panicked, he whipped around. "Baby?"  
**

 

******She snarled at him, her face contorted in a rictus of pain.  
**

 

******In a blink, Spike took in the drenched upholstery, the ragged breathing, and the way her hands clutched convulsively at her twitching, distended stomach.  
**

 

******"Oh! Baby!" He gasped, then veered sharply off to a nearby alley, displacing two hoboes and a streetwalker.  
**

 

******"Shut the fuck up and help me, dammit! SPIKE!" Buffy shrieked.  
**

 

******_Oh god, oh god, ew, ew, it hurts, it's so gross, I'm wet, it HURTS!!! GIVE ME FUCKING DRUGS!!!_   
**

 

******Jerking the parking brake into place, the bleach-blonde teen scrambled out of the car and around to the back, jerking open the door. "Do you want a hospital, a doctor-"  
**

 

******"GET IT OUT OF ME!!!"  
**

 

******He looked down to where her skirt had ridden up. _Christ, it's crowning... is that what you call it? Shit-_ "I can see the head," he finished aloud.  
**

 

******"OUT!!"  
**

 

******Swearing, Spike stripped off his duster and threw it across the door of the car.  
**

 

******This was not going to be pretty.  
**

 

 

******Fluids gushed, punctuating the groans and guttural moans that erupted sporadically from the mouth of the quivering creature that lay in labor. Muscles twitched, substances squelched, and with each moment another fraction of a centimeter of infant flesh crept out of its warm, moist, hiding place.  
**

 

******Minutes, hours passed... it felt like days. Spike kept murmuring, coaxing, cajoling. Buffy was too exhausted to sob, her body wracked with spasmodic pain, her mind still shrieking in incoherent fear at this horrible, horrible thing that was happening.  
**

 

******It oozed. It slid. It slurped and slimed and stuck. There was something in her, wedged in her most private areas, something she desperately wanted gone.  
**

 

******Spike gritted his teeth, vaguely nauseated by how messy this all was. His car would never be the same. His hands were covered in indescribable goo. He didn't want to think of what comprised it. Instead, he concentrated on getting that little head to keep inching forward. Once the head was out, the rest should follow easily, right? That's how it was in the movies...  
**

 

******He was almost ignoring Buffy. He couldn't do this if he thought about how much pain she was in, if he let himself realize that the snarls and bestial growls were coming from the girl he loved.  
**

 

******Spike was so intent on not thinking, that he almost missed it when a round skull finally emerged completely from its hiding place, followed more quickly by a tiny neck. He blanched to see that there was a thick, gray cord wrapped firmly around that neck.  
**

 

******"Buff, the cord-" he started.  
**

 

******"Is it dead?" she interrupted, her voice hoarse and crackly. "Please..." Her head lolled back, exhausted by the effort she was putting out.  
**

 

******He exhaled sharply in anger. Quickly, his knife came out of his pocket and flipped open in his hand. Carefully, more carefully than anything he'd ever done before, Spike used the tip of his blade to slice through the umbilical cord at the side of his child's neck. Maybe it would work.  
**

 

******A tiny shoulder emerged as he worked, Buffy's stomach still contracting. Nearly oblivious to anything but the pain, she continued to push, trying desperately to make the experience be over.  
**

 

******Dropping the knife to the floor, Spike tucked a finger under the cord and loosened it. Blood oozed slowly from the severed stump.  
**

 

******Another push, and the other shoulder came out as well. He abandoned his experiment in favor of getting his child delivered, and quickly. Strong hands guided and grasped, as inch by inch the infant was birthed.  
**

 

******He was almost surprised at how fast the rest went. Little arms, little body, little legs, all slipped out into his waiting hands. For a lack of a better blanket, he grabbed the bottom of his duster to wrap his newborn daughter in.  
**

 

******She still hadn't made a sound. Nor did she move at all.  
**

 

******"Buffy... look..." Spike moved to tilt his arms towards her.  
**

 

******"No!" she whimpered, screwing her eyes shut. " 's dead. Throw it away."  
**

 

******"No, she's not-"  
**

 

******"Just get rid of it! Let me sleep," she begged, clapping her hands over her ears. "Out. Away. Get rid..."  
**

 

******Buffy writhed almost uncomfortably, tucking her legs back towards her chest. "Hate..." she murmured in a raspy voice, then passed out in a dead faint.  
**

 

******Spike stared at her, eyes wide in shock. Did she really mean it?  
**

 

******_Hates you, hates it, wants you to throw it away like garbage. Garbage. No one will know, no one has seen - just three steps to the dumpster, and whoops!_   
**

 

******He came back sharply to reality at the sound of his daughter's newborn wail.  
**

 

******Eyes narrowed at his girlfriend, he hissed. "I bloody well will not."  
**

 

******Bundling his daughter closer to him, he kicked the car door shut behind him and started off down the street. The baby cried lustily, proving that she was very much alive.  
**

 

**********

 

_May 1, 2003_

 

William Develin smiled as he tucked Megan's covers closer around her. She was beautiful when she slept. Hell, she was beautiful all the time. But she was his special angel when her eyes were closed and she smiled to herself like that. 

 

He wondered what she dreamed about, to make her so happy. Leaning down, he brushed a kiss across Meg's forehead. 

 

_Can't believe she's sleeping in m'duster again. Guess it's the only security blanket she's ever known._   
  


To Be Continued

 


End file.
